Future Tense
by broadhands
Summary: Post movie - Jake is summoned to the Well of Souls by the Ni'awve Mokri, the mysterious shaman of the Tipani clan, where he is told of the origins of the Na'vi.
1. Tense Future

**Tense Future**

Jake Sully stood high on the floating mountain called Tantalus, watching the sun disappear beneath the horizon. This was his favourite time, when the plants and animals of this world glowed with life, lighting up the black of night. Not that night was ever black here.

Every night, the first sight of bioluminescence never ceased to remind him of the moment when he fell in love with this world, when he first met the love of his life. That Ney'tiri had chosen him, an alien skxawng, was still a source of total astonishment to him. He was almost as astonished that both of them had survived the recent war with the tawtute, the Sky People, when so many had not.

"Ni'awve Mokri will see you now," said Beyda'amo.

The Tipani warrior didn't say much. He didn't need to. He had to be one of the biggest and toughest looking Na'vi that Jake had ever seen, making Jake's late Omaticayan brother Tsu'tey look like a stripling. The most surprising thing was that his English was much better than Jake's Na'vi, especially as the Tipani had a reputation for avoiding contact with other tribes. Just how in the seven hells had this scary brute learnt English?

Ney'tiri and Mo'at had been just as surprised when the drums of the Tipani had sounded, brusquely summoning him to a meeting with their spiritual leader, the Ni'awve Mokri – First Voice.

It had been an even bigger surprise when the Tipani had despatched almost three hundred warriors to battle with the RDA – despite receiving no messengers from the Omaticaya. None had been sent, for it had been thought that the Tipani would not answer any summons, even from Toruk Makto. Jake had been more than grateful for the assistance at the time, and had asked Beyda'amo how they had known to come. The war leader had merely replied that Ni'awve Mokri had asked him to come.

Rumours had spread amongst the clans two years ago that an unknown warrior of the Tipani had awakened the long lost Well of Souls, a gateway to Eywa as powerful as Vitraya Ramunong, but none of the Tipani would speak of those events, or of the warrior who became First Voice. Even in the celebrations after the battle, they had kept to themselves and said almost nothing.

The Tipani war leader stopped at the edge of the Well of Souls and pointed. There seemed no option other than to follow his direction, so he walked through the narrow opening into the sacred hollow. An unusually tall and muscular Na'vi female stood in rapture before the willow tree, with her back to the only entrance to the hollow. Her head was shaven in the distinctive style of a veteran male warrior, the only feminine touch the flowers woven into her braid.

"Oel ngati kameie, Toruk Makto," said the tall figure to the air. "Or should I call you Corporal Jake Sully?"

Jake stopped dead. He had never heard a Na'vi speak English with a So-Cal accent.

The Na'vi woman released her queue from the fronds of the willow tree and turned around to face him. In the half light cast by the willow he saw that her large hands had five fingers, not four. His mouth dropped open – he thought he knew all of the Avatars that remained on Pandora. She was not one of them.

"Yes, Jake," she said. "I was part of the Avatar program, just like you. Now, however, I am Ni'awve Mokri of the Tipani, and I have been for the last two years."

He didn't know what to say, when she laughed. "I should have expected a jarhead to be none too quick on the uptake."

When he finally found his voice, he demanded, "Just who are you?"

She walked towards him, and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "I was Sig. Spec. Cathy 'Able' Ryder, US Army Signals Corps. The Tipani name me Ableryder, or at least they do when I'm not here at the Well of Souls."

"Where is your link chamber?" asked Jake curiously. He saw that her body was pockmarked with many old bullet scars. Whoever she was, she had been badly wounded at least once, although her face was astonishingly beautiful, even for a Na'vi.

"I don't have one," replied the former Avatar. "Tsahik Sänume saved me into my Avatar when I died."

He looked into her golden eyes, and saw deep-seated grief and pain. She understood. She too had chosen this world over Earth, and had passed through the Eye of Eywa. Echoing her greeting, he replied softly, "Oel ngati kameie."

Her lips curved in a lovely smile. She must have been just as beautiful when she was a human.

"I suppose you are wondering why I asked you here," she commented. When he nodded, she continued, "I wanted to apologise to you."

At his quizzical look, she explained, "I chose you at Eywa's behest. She knew that only a human warrior could defeat the RDA, and I could not do it. I may be a soldier, but I am no leader, to inspire warriors to acts of bravery. She knew that, but still she asked for my aid. What else could I do? So I wanted to say sorry – sorry for what you have been through."

Jake laughed. "There is nothing to forgive," he answered, thinking that there was no way he would have given up the experience of becoming an Omaticaya, despite the anguish choosing them over his human heritage had given him. The love of the Omaticaya and Ney'tiri had been more than worth the price. "This is where I belong, among The People." He tilted his head to one side, and asked suspiciously, "Just when did you chose?"

Ableryder laughed back. "When you charged the titanothere, and did not fire your weapon, that's when I knew you were the right one." More seriously, she explained, "Only an insanely brave jarhead would have done that, and only a skxawng like you would have the courage to choose what was right over the fate of his own species."

"Was it all you and Eywa?" he wondered aloud.

She shook her head. "Eywa only intervened twice. When the palulukan stripped you of your human devices and weapons, to make you truly See this world, and then when she called her creatures to battle, in answer to your prayer. The rest...it was all you, and blind chance. It was a terrible gamble – you could have died at any moment, and the Na'vi would have lost. But then that is Eywa's way."

"Don't I know it," he replied ruefully.

"There was something else I had to tell you, that only the Tipani know," she said. "All the other clans have forgotten this, but Eywa needed one tribe to remember. That is why we hold ourselves apart." She paused meaningfully, and then pronounced, "The Na'vi are not native to Pandora."

"What!" he exploded.

Ableryder shrugged reflexively. "Grace suspected it. I have communed with her spirit many times since she died, and everything both her and Eywa have shared with me confirms that the Na'vi were brought here."

It sounded totally unbelievable, yet so right. Jake only half-heard the former human's next words.

"As near as I can figure it, about four thousand years ago someone or something brought a proto-Polynesian tribe here from Earth, genetically engineering their bodies to survive on this world, made them known to Eywa, and released them. That is why the Na'vi seem so familiar to us – their appearance, their culture, their language. The Na'vi were human once."

She continued relentlessly. "That is why it was relatively easy for our technology to build Avatars. The original genetic modifications made the Na'vi genotype readily adaptable to the changes required for the Avatar program. The real clincher, though, was what I found here at the Well of Souls."

Ableryder walked towards the smooth rock wall of the hollow, saying, "Follow me."

In a daze, Jake followed her. When she placed her hand on the rock surface, a section slid away to reveal a brightly lit corridor machined out of the rock, sloping down deep into the floating mountain, curving all the time to the left.

"I've spent the last two years deciphering the technology that they used. It hasn't been easy – it is hundreds of years in advance of where Earth is right now, and somehow they linked it with Eywa. If not for that I could never have learnt what I have."

They walked into a large chamber, filled with objects that looked vaguely like...Avatar gestation tanks. And one of them was occupied.

It seemed that this day was full of surprises for Jake Sully.

"Yes, Jake," said Ableryder. "Eywa told me where to find her. She was horribly burned when her Samson crashed, but she has an indomitable will to live. Eywa marks her as one of the great spirits of this world, and wished me to save her for the battles to come. But even then I only just managed to keep her alive long enough to tank her."

The Na'vi floating in the tank wore the strong Hispanic features of Trudy Chachon.

"Fuck me sideways," swore Jake. This was unbelievable.

The Ni'awve Mokri grinned, and said, "I thought you would like to be here for her birthday."

A few minutes later the chamber's amniotic fluid was pouring on to the floor, and Jake was helping Ableryder extract Trudy's limp body from the tank. As they lay her on a high tech version of a gurney, she coughed and spluttered, vomiting up more fluid.

"Easy, Trudy," said Jake. "You're doing fine."

The new Na'vi rolled on to her side and coughed again, clearing her lungs of the remaining fluid. "Shit!" she exclaimed weakly, as she collapsed on to her back again. "I feel like I've been sideswiped by an eighteen wheeler." Her eyes fluttered open, and slowly focused on the face above her. "Hey, Jake. Did we win?"

"Yes," he replied.

Suddenly Trudy realised that it was Jake's Avatar standing above her, not his human face. She began to struggle against him, and held her breath. "Exopack!" she gasped, desperate not to breathe any more of Pandora's toxic atmosphere.

Jake grabbed her wrist and held her hand in front of her face. "You don't need one."

Trudy's eyes focused on the blue-skinned four-fingered hand in Jake's grasp, and she abruptly stopped struggling. "Holy fuck!" she exclaimed.

"I'm afraid you won't fit in the cockpit of a Samson now," said Jake. "You'll have to choose an ikran if you want to fly again."

It appeared that was exactly the right thing to have said to her. A broad smile spread across Trudy's face as she said, "I was so jealous of you, Jake. Now I really will be able to fly."

Ableryder said, "Let us help you get up."

The two former Avatars helped the new Na'vi stand up. She swayed on her feet, drily commenting that it was a long way down to the ground now. Jake replied that she was lucky that Ney'tiri wasn't here, otherwise Trudy would find herself being thrown off the side of the mountain in expectation that she would bond with an ikran before she hit the forest below. Trudy laughed, having endured Jake's complaints about the deficiencies of Ney'tiri as a teacher for three long months.

Soon all three were on the surface, gazing up at the night sky dominated by Polyphemus.

"You know they will return," said Jake. "They have no choice. Earth's civilisation will collapse without the Unobtainium, unless we show them another way."

"Yes," answered Ableryder. "They will be planning their attack even now."

"Six years," echoed Jake. "It seems like hardly any time at all."

"Hey, guys," said Trudy. "Do you think I can get some clothes? I'm stark naked here."

Thinking of their own abrupt transition to the beads and feathers that the Na'vi regarded as high fashion, Jake and Ableryder chuckled together at Trudy's discomfort. She was in for a hell of a ride.


	2. Imperfect Future

**Imperfect Future**

Trudy watched Jake fly off on his ikran with envious eyes the following morning. She had asked him not to say anything about her survival to the remaining humans, or to the Omaticaya. He would have stayed longer with the Tipani, but it was clear to everyone that he could not bear to spend another night away from Ney'tiri, for all that he griped about her bossiness.

Ableryder had insisted that she stay with the Tipani, at least until she learnt enough to survive as a Na'vi, and Beyda'amo and his life partner Marali had offered to foster her.

She had surprised the warrior when she thanked him for his kindness in fluent Na'vi. His eyes opened wide in respect as he said in English, "I did not expect you to be versed in our tongue, Truti'tsakon."

Trudy shrugged, and replied, "There wasn't much else to do when I was off duty, or hanging around the shack waiting for the next assignment from Grace. I figured I might as well learn something useful about this world, in case I ever had to crash land my chopper in the bush and walk back to Hell's Gate."

"That is good," he responded. "You will learn all the more quickly."

Halfway through the following day she was swearing about Jake. He had no grounds for complaint against Ney'tiri. She was a soft touch compared to Beyda'amo. She reckoned he would not be out of place as a SERE instructor in the Marine Corps. She would have sworn black and blue that the two weeks she had spent on that course had been the worst two weeks of her life - until now. She was so tired that evening she fell asleep over her food, and had to be shaken awake and almost spoon fed.

The next few months were spent in a haze of exhaustion. The physical demands placed upon her by Beyda'amo were insane, and he crammed information into her brain, expecting her to repeat back every lesson word perfect – the habits of the many animals of the forest, both predator and prey, how to track and stalk, the nature of all the different types of plants, how to navigate in the forest – everything a Na'vi needed to know to survive. Slowly, ever so slowly, she got fitter and stronger, and her feet and hands toughened up, until she managed to approach his incredible strength and endurance. And then came weapons training – bow, spear, axe and club. It was only in unarmed combat that she could come close to holding her own, using every trick that had been taught to her from the Close Quarter Combat Manual by a grizzled old Marine drill instructor.

After one session where she had been left black and blue – or rather black and black – lying on the ground, Beyda'amo asked, "Truti'tsakon, are all tawtute women as stubborn as you?"

"No," she panted. "My mother used to say that only thing as stubborn as a Chacon woman was the truth."

The warrior nodded. "It is just as well," he commented drily. "If tawtute women were all as determined as you and Ableryder, then the Na'vi would have no hope. You may rest tomorrow, and let the bruises heal."

She chuckled. Those words were the nearest thing to a compliment on her progress she had ever received from Beyda'amo since he began training her. It did not strike her as odd that she had replied in Na'vi, for almost all her thoughts were now in her adopted tongue.

The following day Trudy was walking back from the privy when she encountered a group of four young adolescent males.

"Hey, Tawtute," cried one of them. "Is it true that human women will make tsahaylu with any male?"

"Yeah," sniggered one. "They are just like a direhorse. No discrimination at all."

Trudy blushed hotly. She was still not used to wandering about almost naked, and she had been conscious on many occasions of these same young males staring at her breasts – which were easily the largest of any Tipani woman. She should have been used to it, as ever since the age of fourteen she had been used to boys and men speaking their words to her chest rather than her face, but here of all places it felt dirty, unclean.

"She must be in heat all the time," said the first one. "Look how big her tits are."

The third young idiot said, "I bet they feel as good as they look." He reached out to touch her chest when her hand snapped around his wrist, and she quickly pivoted on one foot, throwing the teenager to the ground, his face landing with unerring accuracy into a pile of fresh, sticky, direhorse dung.

"Don't bite off more than you can chew, boys," she warned.

The youth she had thrown got to his feet, spitting out the dung, the light of battle in his eyes. "Get her!" he cried.

The four youths attacked her, leaving her no choice but to fight back in a whirl of violence, using every bit of her blended knowledge of human and Na'vi fighting skills. About a minute later, much to her surprise, the four youths were all lying on the ground, either groaning from newly received injuries or unconscious. One of them complained bitterly, nursing a black eye, "You don't fight fair. I'll tell on you."

She barked with laughter. "I'm sure that Tsahik Sänume would love to hear that four strapping youths ganged up on one woman. Think of what she would tell your mothers, and your sisters."

An expression of horror spread over the youth's face. He pleaded, "Please don't tell."

She nodded. "Don't let me hear you teasing any of the young girls, or I will tell the Tsahik of your misdeeds. Swear to Eywa that you will do as I say."

The miscreants, at least the conscious ones, mumbled out a satisfactory oath, so she left them nursing their bruises.

"That was well done," said Ableryder from behind her shoulder, making Trudy jump.

"How do you do that?" she demanded. "I didn't even smell you, let alone hear you."

The Ni'awve Mokri replied, "Can't a girl have any secrets around here?"

"I thought that was my line," said Trudy, as they walked into the communal space at the base of Hometree. "There is one thing I want to know, though. Just what is it with the Na'vi and breasts? I mean, we aren't even mammals and we still have the damn things."

Ableryder answered, "Breasts on Na'vi women are an evolutionary overhang of our human ancestry. They indicate sexual maturity, and swell to signal sexual receptiveness to males, especially when you are fertile and in the presence of the male that you have chosen. Unfortunately for you, the size of your breasts are screaming out that you are 'up for it' all the time to all and sundry."

Trudy sighed, "I don't know any of this. I had enough trouble dealing with sex when I was human, but now I don't know any of the rules. Beyda'amo sure isn't going to tell me anything about Na'vi sex – all he seems to care about is finding new methods of killing things. I don't even know how we are supposed to have sex, or what normal sex is, let alone the kinky stuff with making tsahaylu."

The former Avatar burst out laughing. "You really do sleep soundly," she giggled. "Beyda'amo and Marali are notorious for the amount of noise they make when they mate, and they do it at the drop of a hat. A herd of titanotheres stampeding are quieter than those two." She looked a little more serious when she added, "Perhaps you should speak to Marali. She is pretty frank about sex."

Something had been niggling at Trudy for some time. "Why haven't you chosen a mate?" she asked. "You still sleep with the unmarried young women, and you've been one with the Tipani for more than two years. Surely the Ni'awve Mokri is of high enough status that all the eligible young men would be competing for your hand."

A twisted smile spread across the face of the woman who had saved her life. "You really are obtuse, aren't you?"

"Huh?" asked Trudy.

"I'm gay," said Ableryder bluntly.

"Oh," exclaimed Trudy weakly, thinking that she had a gift for putting her foot in her mouth, and then more words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them. All the signs were right out there in the open – the tough demeanour, brusque competence and even the masculine way she dressed her hair. Ableryder was as butch as they came. "Is that even possible for a Na'vi?"

"It's unusual," admitted Ableryder, her smile twisting even more. "But not unheard of. There are many spirits within Eywa who were like me in their life. Once I let it be known, the young Tipani men stopped bothering me. The Na'vi are more relaxed about these matters than humans. After all, we are what Eywa makes us. Who are the Na'vi to condemn one of their own, even though she may be an alien dreamwalker?"

"You must be lonely," said Trudy.

She nodded. "I lost my lover in the Marianas Trench tsunami. It was my fault she died. That was why I signed up with the RDA to come to Pandora. I couldn't face living on Earth any longer, and I was just lucky that I passed all the tests to get into the Avatar program."

"How can it be your fault?" wondered Trudy. "Millions died in that disaster."

Ableryder's answer made Trudy wish she could curl up and shrivel away. She really did have a gift for foot-in-mouth disease, even more so than Norm Spellman. "I was the sigspec in the task force targeting the eco-terrorists. I took too long to decode one of their transmissions, the one that would have enabled us to stop the bombs going off. That's why it is my fault that Kiki died."

"I see you, Cathy Ryder," said Trudy in English. "It was not your fault. Those crazies would not have let anyone stop them. Surely Eywa has told you that you should bear no guilt."

"Thank you," replied the sad woman. "She has. I just have trouble accepting it myself."

"Come on," urged Trudy. "You need some cheering up. Come and listen to Marali shock me absolutely rigid. It will be fun."

"Ok," agreed Ableryder.

Trudy was right. What Marali told her about Na'vi sexual practices did shock her totally rigid, and Ableryder roared with laughter at the many and varied expressions that passed across Trudy's face.


	3. Past Participle

**Past Participle**

"It is time, Truti'tsakon", announced Beyda'amo solemnly, the day after his partner had filled in a very large gap in Trudy's Na'vi education.

"Time for what?" asked Trudy. It was far too early for rational thought, especially as the Na'vi had no equivalent of coffee, and Beyda'amo had dragged her out of her hammock well before dawn. That was the one thing she really missed about being human - the first sip of freshly brewed coffee in the morning. And her iPod. She really missed not having her music on tap, but her player was toast in the remains of her Samson. Beyda'amo had shown her the wreck on one of their extended hunting excursions, and she was amazed she managed to survive the crash. There was nothing left but a pile of twisted metal and melted plastic. Not that she had really survived – not as a human.

She was idly wondering if it was possible to upload her music into Eywa. Her playlist should still be on the system at Hell's Gate. When she was through training, she could go and see the humans and ask Max if he could develop an interface to Eywa. He was supposed to be some hotshot on electronic interfaces to organic brains. Surely Eywa would enjoy having access to centuries' worth of human music. Then all she would have to do to listen would be to hook up to a willow tree, and she could have surround sound inside her head. The only problem then would be that the Na'vi didn't run off wireless. If Max could do that as well, she would...well she would be very grateful.

"Time to pass your trial as a taronyu, a hunter," said Beyda'amo, his voice rather testy at her lack of attention.

"Oh," she said disinterestedly, wondering what the Earthside music industry would think about having their music copied into a worldwide living network – without receiving royalties. She giggled briefly at the thought, when she suddenly realised what her teacher had said. "Oh!" she exclaimed.

"I am glad you have decided to join the ranks of the living," said Beyda'amo drily. "It would be preferable if you could remain awake when we climb to the ikran rookery. I am sure it would distress Toruk Makto if I let you fall, and I would have to spend much time making a worthy death-song for such a foolish woman, time that I would rather spend hunting."

Trudy's face went hot with embarrassment. "I am sorry, Beyda'amo. I was not properly awake, and not paying attention. It will not happen again."

"Good," he replied succinctly.

On the direhorse ride to Iknimaya, silence reigned, where previously the warrior would have spent the time relentlessly grilling Trudy on her knowledge. Eventually, she felt impelled to ask, "Have I offended you, Beyda'amo? You do not speak."

He grinned at her. "I was wondering when you would gather the courage to ask, skxawng," he replied. "No, you have not offended me."

"Why do you not test me?" she continued.

His answer was typical of the man. "You know all that I can teach you. The rest you must learn for yourself."

That would be right – he was a stern advocate of the 'throw them in the deep end' method of teaching. If they survive, well and good, if they drown, well, they were never going to learn in the first place.

He continued, "I saw the four layabouts were sporting a new set of bruises last night."

Trudy said nothing.

"It is good that you were strong enough to teach them a lesson in politeness," he said. "They are even more skxawng than you are."

"Would they really have..." she didn't finish the question.

"No. To engage in play without the consent of the young woman is to risk expulsion from the clan," he said. "Marali told me of your questions last night. It is good that you seek to understand us and become true Na'vi."

The word he used for 'play' she had not heard before, and she was pretty sure it didn't mean playing children's games."I thought the Na'vi mated for life," she said cautiously.

"You are right," said Beyda'amo. "But there is much playing before a man and a woman choose and mate before Eywa. Very few make the decision to make tsahaylu as quickly as Jake'sully and Ney'tiri."

"What of one like Ableryder?" asked Trudy. In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought, and as long as the big lug was talking about relationships, she would try to find out as much as she could. It would save her from making more skxawng-like mistakes in the long run.

He gave her a searching look. "You are not like the Ni'awve Mokri. I have seen you admiring the young men."

Well, there were a number of times in Flight School with some of the girls, she thought, her face heating again. But Na'vi men – they all looked so damn hot. There was so much eye-candy on display living amongst the Tipani was like rooming with a troupe of male strippers. Sometimes she didn't know where to look.

Beyda'amo nodded. "Do not worry. Many young women play amongst themselves before they start considering the young men as mates. It is normal."

Damn. Her face must be as transparent as glass.

"But no-one teases Ableryder," she said. "All the Tipani respect her, and give her deference, even though she was a human and a dreamwalker, and a lover of women." There was no word for lesbian in Na'vi, so she had to improvise.

"Not only is she Ni'awve Mokri, she is also the strongest warrior of the Tipani," said Beyda'amo. At Trudy's look of disbelief, he added without any trace of false modesty, "Yes, even greater than I. It is my greatest shame that when she came to us that I rejected her, and it was only after Ableryder became Ni'awve Mokri that I truly Saw her courage and skill, and her love for Eywa."

He added solemnly, "It is sad that she cannot find her life-mate amongst the Na'vi, for her heart is already given."

Trudy nodded. "She told me of the loss of her lover Kiki on Earth."

The warrior gave an ironic bark of laughter, and said, "You are truly skxawng, Truti'tsakon. You See less than a rock."

Unnoticed, they had arrived at the end of the trail. It was time to start climbing to Iknimaya.


	4. Conjunction

**Conjunction**

Trudy thought that she was fit now, but the climb to Iknimaya sapped her strength to almost exhaustion. It had seemed endless, until her bastard of a teacher said cheerfully, "You can rest now, skxawng. We are here."

"There is no way I am climbing back down," she muttered. "Not if Eywa herself asked me."

"That's the spirit," said Beyda'amo. She kept on forgetting how acute Na'vi ears were. "You either choose your ikran, or fall to your death. No half measures for this skxawng. Still, you had better move if you don't want to be pushed off this ledge."

Two ikran with riders were flying in, so she hurriedly scrambled to one side.

"Hey, Trudy," yelled Jake Sully, just before he dismounted in a wonderfully fluid action, as though he had been doing it all his life. At that moment, just for a fraction of a second, she hated him. She wanted this moment so much, the thought of flying an ikran had been the only thing that kept her going through the last few months. When she was falling in the ruins of her burning Samson, the thought that she would never fly again almost made her let go of her life. That was what she was – a pilot.

Ney'tiri dismounted even more gracefully than her husband. She grinned at the exhausted young woman, and said impishly, "Oel ngati kameie, Truti'tsakon. I have bet my Jake that you will choose your ikran with much more style than he did."

Jake laughed. "That wouldn't be difficult," he said, self deprecatingly.

"You have your meresh'ti cau'pla?" asked Beyda'amo kindly.

She nodded, unable to speak. She took the banshee catcher made from a razor palm frond from her belt and uncurled it, feeling the weight of the stone at the end, and started to move along the ledge towards the flat area at the centre of the rookery. The screams of the ikran were all around her, and she didn't know where to look - until she saw him, the ikran in the middle of an empty space. She looked directly into his eyes, and she could see nothing else. The hand holding her banshee catcher opened, and it slid silently through her fingers on to the ground.

"Trudy!" yelled Jake, although he sounded as though he was a thousand miles away. "Wake up!"

"No, Jake!' called Ney'tiri. "You cannot interfere. The ikran has chosen her. It is the Way."

The ikran hopped towards Trudy, flapping its wings, and stopped directly before her, inspecting her. It gave her a strong nudge with its muzzle, as though to remind her why she was there. She could have gazed into his eyes for all eternity, they were so beautiful, speaking to her only of the joy and savagery of flight. She took her queue, and made tsahaylu with this wonderful creature.

"Oh!" she whispered, tears rolling down her face, leaning against its strong neck. Trudy's world had suddenly become much, much larger.

Beyda'amo was alongside her. "Mount," he hissed. "You must fly now to seal the bond." He almost threw her onto the ikran's neck.

She only had one thought. "Fly."

Afterwards, she could not find the words to describe her first flight on her ikran. It was nothing like the fierce joy when she soloed for the first time, or the first time she flew a chopper. It was better.

She was dimly aware that Jake and Ney'tiri were flying formation on her, watching the skies for danger. It was just as well – she was lost in rapture. Otherwise a toruk could have just swooped down and taken her and her precious ikran.

When Trudy landed high in the branches of the Tipani Hometree, her two guardians to either side, she sighed. She had not wanted first flight to end. When she released her queue from tsahaylu with her ikran, she sighed again.

"I thought I would have to fight with him to make the bond," she commented to Ney'tiri.

Ney'tiri gazed at her solemnly. "It is...unusual for an ikran to choose a rider without a fight. It has happened before, though."

There was something she was not saying, and Trudy had a suspicion that it would be harder to extract the information from her than to get blood out of a stone. So to change the subject, she pointed her chin at Ney'tiri's ikran and asked, "Do ikran markings change? They look different to what I remember."

An expression of sadness appeared on Ney'tiri's face. "Seze died," she said simply.

A lump of sympathetic pain rose in Trudy's throat. She understood tsahaylu between Na'vi and ikran now, and the pain that Ney'tiri must feel. She could not imagine losing her ikran, even after this short time.

Jake asked, "What is his name?"

The answer popped into her head without her thinking about it. "Nari'ong."

"Hmm, opening eye – a good name,' said Jake.

"When are you going to name your ikran?" asked Ney'tiri, nudging her husband. "It has been months since you made tsahaylu, and still you call him 'hey you'."

The war leader against the RDA looked abashed. "I haven't thought of the right name yet."

The two Na'vi women laughed at the stupidity of a male.


	5. Preposition

**Preposition**

The Tipani held a feast to honour Toruk Makto that evening, and there was much singing and dancing, and retelling of heroic deeds of both TIpani and Omaticaya of ages gone past. It was long past midnight before everyone was in their beds, but still Trudy could not fall asleep.

It turned out that neither could Jake and Ney'tiri, for she heard them talking English in the dark of Hometree.

"What weren't you saying to Trudy when you said her trial was unusual?" asked Jake, his voice low.

Ney'tiri replied softly, "My Jake, in all the songs it has only happened once. Ik'sreu'ean, you would call him Blue Sky Dancer, his ikran chose him as Nari'ong chose Truti'tsakon."

"So?"

Even in his whisper Trudy could hear the tone in Jake's voice wondering what the big deal was.

"I forget how much of a skxawng you are," said Ney'tiri affectionately. Her words were followed by the sound of kissing for what seemed like several minutes, making Trudy squirm inside for her blatant eavesdropping.

Eventually, Jake said breathlessly, "You were talking about Trudy?"

"Yes," purred Ney'tiri. "Blue Sky Dancer was loved by Eywa. Ahhh!" It was clear that they were doing a lot more than just kissing. "In songs...in songs he was first...oh...rider of ikran."

There were several moments of total silence. Trudy strained her ears to find out their next words.

"Will Beyda'amo say anything?" hissed Jake.

"No. I gave him hand sign to stay quiet," growled Ney'tiri. "And if you don't continue I will rip out your throat."

Jake chuckled softly, and then there was no more talking in either English or Na'vi – only the soft sounds of gentle love making deep into the night.

Trudy lay awake, wondering what the hell was happening to her, cold shivers running down her spine, until the sky started to lighten with the coming of a new day .


	6. Present Participle

**Present Participle**

The following morning, Beyda'amo was looking ill at ease, almost as though he was about to tell her some bad news, thought Trudy.

"Truti'Tsakon," he said. "For one not born a Tipani, or even a Na'vi, you have learnt...adequately."

For the brutish looking warrior, this was high praise indeed. "Thank you," said Trudy. "I am grateful to have received instruction from a teacher such as yourself."

Beyda'amo grunted, and held out a leaf wrapped packet. "A Tipani hunter would normally make this herself before first flight, but I have observed your lack of skill on the loom. Your ikran deserves better." He handed over the packet to Trudy, saying, "Eywa te'Truti'Tsakon tan'sey mak'ta."

The translation ran through Trudy's head – the love of Eywa's embrace is gifted to Trudy Chacon. She opened the packet to find a beautifully woven banshee queue harness. She had seen some stunning examples of these hanging from hunters' personal racks, but none were more exquisitely designed and executed than this one. It carried the Na'vi depiction of a Samson chopper in flight, and must have taken months of work.

Trudy knew enough about Na'vi customs by now that a gift such as this was only given by its maker. Where Beyda'amo had found the time in between training her, hunting for the clan and caring for his family she had no idea. She was stunned by his generosity, and the commitment of time and love he had made for one who was not even a member of the clan.

"I am honoured by your regard, Beyda'amo," she said quietly, clutching the queue harness to her breast. "It is beautiful work."

He nodded. "I have started making a saddle," he said. "It is not finished, for I did not know what size Nari'ong would need."

A very human impulse struggled within Trudy's chest to say that he did not have to do this. Her teacher must have been reading her mind, as an expression appeared on Beyda'amo's scarred face that she never expected to see – a lop-sided impish grin. "In truth, I find working with hand and loom most soothing. For all that I love her, Marali is not the most restful of mates, and sometimes I crave a lack of excitement. Your lack of skill provided an excellent excuse."

Trudy burst out laughing at the sly dig at his absent partner. For all the advantages that tsahaylu provided for Na'vi couples, such relationships were not all smooth sailing, and even the most powerful and dominant Na'vi warrior could suffer from severe hen-pecking.

"Now, Truti'Tsakon, I suppose I must teach you how to care for your ikran," he said, smiling at her amusement.

She tried not to sigh. Were lessons never going to end? Clearly, not while she was under the tutelage of Beyda'amo.


	7. Interjection

**Interjection**

Ableryder, who still thought of herself sometimes as Cathy, linked her queue to the Tree of Voices. The memories of the first Na'vi were very difficult to access. It was only with the coming of the Na'vi that Eywa had begun to understand the nature of time. Before it seemed all she remembered was the endless dance of the seasons, of the joy of growing things and the sadness of death. In truth, it was the Na'vi who had awakened her.

A figure swam into focus in her mind's eye. Grace Augustine's acerbic voice announced, "Still trying to delve into the depths, Ryder?"

It was not the first time that Ableryder had encountered the spirit of the dead xeno-botanist in the last few months, and she found it disconcerting. Grace's image shifted subtly between human and Na'vi appearance constantly, as though the ghost delighted in unsettling the former Avatar. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Grace," thought the Ni'awve Mokri. "I prefer your real appearance."

"This one?" asked Grace. Her spirit shifted to that of a Tsahik in full ceremonial dress, even her hands and feet slimming from five to four digits.

"Yes," murmured Ableryder aloud. "It is who you really are, after all."

The spirit of the xeno-botanist grinned impishly. "You've got me there." It seemed death had not changed Grace much – she still irritated the hell of Ryder, just as much as when she had been alive – even though they had met face-to-face on only a few occasions.

A question popped into Ableyder's head. "What is it like being dead?"

"Ouch!" said Grace. Her image frowned in thought for several seconds, before she answered, "I don't think of it as being dead – more like being differently alive. I'd kill for a cigarette though. Eywa doesn't approve of smoking."

Ableryder laughed at the thought of the mother goddess of Pandora shaking her finger at Grace, and pointing to a no-smoking sign. She could guess what the irreverent xeno-botanist would say in reply.

"How is our tough little pilot going?" asked Grace. "Does she like being Na'vi?"

"She is out on her ikran as soon as the sun rises," replied the former sigspec. "I think she is more Na'vi than the Na'vi." She frowned to herself as she added, "Trudy hasn't been talking much though. I think something is worrying her."

"Eywa has big plans for her," responded Grace. "It's not surprising that she might be feeling odd. Besides, the transition from a human body to Na'vi is a little startling, especially if you weren't expecting it."

"It was just as well that she didn't wake up during the transition in the tank," commented Ableryder. "The interim phases between human and Na'vi were pretty disturbing. At one stage I was sure that it was killing her. After all, no human technology would still be working after four thousand years."

"So I was right about the Prolemuris DNA," stated Grace, a white lab coat flicking into existence around Grace's spirit body as she spoke, a matching lit cigarette appearing in her right hand. The clash between the trappings of a human researcher and the Na'vi Tsahik were startling, to say the least.

"Yes," said Ableryder. "Whoever built the tanks used it to modify the human genotype to survive on Pandora.

The ghost of the scientist lifted her cigarette to her lips and took a long drag, when the cigarette abruptly vanished. "Damn," she swore. "Do you see what I mean, Cathy?"

A faint smile crossed over Ableryder's face. "Surgeon-General Eywa advises that smoking is bad for your spiritual health," she quipped.

Grace laughed. "I must say it is very interesting in here, despite one or two minor disadvantages," she admitted. "For example, riding with a palulukan on the hunt is an interesting experience. Although there are some areas of Eywa I haven't been able to access yet..."

"Is there any trace of the origin of the Na'vi, or the ones that made them?"

The xeno-botanist grimaced. "That's one of the sections I have haven't been able to penetrate."

"Oh," said Ableryder. Clearly Eywa did not want some things to be known as yet. No doubt in time that would change. If the last two years had taught her anything, it was that Eywa was a strong believer in imparting only what you needed to know. She would have made a perfect twentieth century cold war spymaster.

"When are you flying back to Hell's Gate?" asked Grace innocently. "You could go with Trudy. I'm sure Max and Norm would like to know that she is still alive."

"Ah, I don't know," said Ableryder evasively.

"You should ask her. That's her now," said the xeno-botanist, and vanished.

As the former sigspec unlinked her queue, she heard the flapping of an ikran landing behind her. She turned to face it to see Trudy dismounting from her ikran. "Oel ngati kameie, Truti'tsakon."

"I See you," replied the former marine pilot in English. "I came to get you for the ceremony. Beyda'amo told me this morning that while he would normally apply my initiation markings, he thought it wiser that you should do it."

Chuckling, Ableryder commented, "Marali is pulling her jealous act again."

Trudy nodded. "The big lug said that discretion is better than valour, especially when dealing with his mate. He suggested that as a former tawtute, you are the closest I have to family in the Tipani, Ni'awve Mokri, so you should be the one to apply the paint."

"I would be honoured," said Ableryder, meaning every word. The former marine had risked everything for the Na'vi with nothing to gain, so it was the least she could do for her, even if she was only a jarhead.

Trudy could remember little of the ceremony afterwards, other than a sense of solemnity and joy and pride that now she was part of something larger than herself. The only similar experience that she could relate was the passing out parade from Flight School, when she achieved her dream of becoming a chopper pilot in the Marines.

When Trudy finally went to sleep that night, she drifted off with a small smile gracing her face.


	8. Indefinite Article

**Indefinite Article**

When Trudy climbed the spiral to the ikran branches in Hometree, she was surprised to find Ableryder waiting for her, even though Alpha Centauri A was barely above the horizon.

"We need to take a trip," said the Ni'awve Mokri.

The muscular female warrior didn't look too happy. Trudy wondered what the big problem was, after all, Trudy was Tipani too now, wasn't she?

"Where?" asked Trudy.

"Hell's Gate," was the succinct reply.

Mixed feelings competed in Trudy's heart. She wanted to see Norm and Max, and the other science 'zoids that she used to cart around from site to site, only...what if they wigged out? What if they didn't recognise her? They didn't know she was alive, let alone a Na'vi. There was no evidence that she had ever been human, at least none that could be seen.

Trudy had not seen her own face since she painted it on the morning of the battle with Quaritch's goons. She had often idly wondered what she looked like, but Beyda'amo had kept her so busy during the day she had never had time to look at her reflection in a still pool, and at night...well,. she was just too damned tired to do anything except eat and sleep.

Jake's Avatar looked a lot like his old human face. Perhaps Trudy still looked a little like she used to, although she knew she had the large eyes of the native-born Na'vi, not those of an Avatar, a human-Na'vi hybrid.

"Ok," she said reluctantly.

It was a long flight, although before long Trudy began to recognise up familiar landmarks. When she saw the deep scar of the open-cut mine, she murmured to herself, "Hell's Gate tower, this is Samson One-Six, requesting permission to land."

Even though it was only mid-morning, the bare rock of the mine had heated sufficiently for the familiar thermal updraught to cause the two ikran and their riders to rocket up several hundred feet in altitude as they crossed the mine boundary. Nari'ong squealed in dislike, so Trudy leant further forward to caress his neck reassuringly. "It's ok, my baby," she whispered, thinking loving thoughts through the link to her ikran. "I should have warned you."

She looked down in to the mine, to see that the massive machines that had gouged the earth were now still, and green was starting to sprout in many spaces on the bare rock. It seemed that Eywa was reclaiming her own.

"What about the automatic defences?" yelled Trudy. "Won't we get shot at? We don't have any IFF transponders."

Ableryder yelled back, "They have been switched off."

Trudy hoped so. Not long after she had arrived on Pandora, she saw a flock of tetrapteron blown out of the sky by the automated See-Wiz guns mounted around the perimeter fence. She had no wish to be the object of idle target practice by a soulless machine. That was why she always used the standard approach and departure vectors, just in case her IFF transponder was on the fritz.

Nari'ong picked up her nervousness when they approached the perimeter fence, jinking about a little bit as they descended. She was relieved to see that the See-Wiz turrets did not rotate and track them. Ableryder was right, thank Eywa, she thought.

The flightline was much emptier than she remembered. There were no Scorpion or Dragon gunships in evidence, only a few Samsons scattered about the field. As the pair of ikran settled to land, a lump rose in her throat. Without a word, she disengaged her queue, slipped to the ground off Nari'ong, and walked over to a Samson placed on her spot in the flightline. It was Samson One-Six, right down to the blue and white bands she had painted on her bird before the battle. She walked slowly over to it, not believing what she was seeing, until she stood at the pilot's door.

As she ran her hand over her name stencilled on the door, she heard a voice behind her.

"Oel ngati kameie, tsamsiyu."

Trudy turned around to see her old crew-chief wearing his favourite fatigues. She hadn't known he could speak Na'vi, and was surprised that he had stayed behind on Pandora. When he wasn't working on the aircraft, he was bitching about the rotten climate, the wildlife, the barracks, the low pay, the crappy fit of his exopack...everything. Perhaps she hadn't really known him, after all.

"Oel ngati kameie," she replied automatically.

He frowned briefly at her, and asked, "Did you fight in the battle?"

"Srane," she replied. Yes. Something stopped her from admitting who she was, or even that she spoke English.

"They look different on the ground," he commented. "As though they shouldn't be able to fly."

Trudy nodded. She had often thought that the Samson was an ugly bird, but she had loved hers none the less. "I thought this one fell in the battle," she said softly.

The crew-chief looked sad. "It did," he replied. "We repainted one in memory of the pilot. She was the bravest person I ever met, even if she had a temper like a rutting hammerhead. She had the courage to do what was right, not like the rest of us."

Trudy smiled at him. "She must have been a good friend." She had always liked Chief Ortiz, despite his continual griping. Life wouldn't have been the same without it.

"She was a cantankerous bitch," he said, "But a good boss. She kept us on our toes." He paused for a moment before adding, "I keep this one in perfect running order, just in case she comes back. We never found her body in the wreckage."

Oh, help me, Eywa, she prayed. I am not strong enough for this. I had no idea that anyone loved me, not even as a friend.

"Perhaps she will return," she said, after a pause. "The hand of Eywa cannot be foretold by mortals."

"Are you here to see someone?" he asked. When she nodded in confirmation, he suggested, "You should go over to the admin building over there." The English words sounded odd to her. "The science people should be able to fix you up. Eywa ngahu."

"Eywa ngahu," she echoed as he turned away.

Unnoticed, Ableryder had appeared alongside her. "Are you a total skxawng? You cannot leave him like this," she growled softly.

The crew-chief was thirty metres away when she yelled out in English, "Chief Ortiz! You call this perfect working order? The damned flying strake is loose again! Can't you do your fucking work right? How the fuck do you expect me to bounce at 0600?"

He froze in his tracks, as though he could not believe what he was hearing, and slowly turned around. Behind the plastic of his exo-pack, his lips whispered, "Chacon?"

"That's La Capitán Chacon to you," she said, smiling.

"I don't fucking believe it," he swore. "What the fuck have you done?"

"I grew up," she said, "just like you always told me I should."

"It is fucking you," he said, walking slowly back, looking her up and down. "Same crappy sense of humour and all. Damn, you're too fucking big to hug. When the fuck did you get a fucking Avatar?" His use of Anglo-Saxon words had not changed for the better.

"I didn't," she said, wriggling the four fingers of her right hand at him. "It's all me."

"Damn, girl," he exclaimed, grinning. "You'll catch it for being out of uniform."

Trudy laughed. "I am in uniform," she said. "Na'vi uniform. I am now Truti'tsakon, tsamsiyu and taronyu of the Tipani clan."

"I always wondered what you looked like under your fatigues," he said admiringly. "I just never thought you were blue with tiger stripes."

She laughed again. "You'll have me blushing, Chief Ortiz. Seriously, though, I'd appreciate it if you don't tell anyone."

He laughed back. "I won't spoil your fun," he said shaking his head dolefully. "There are some science geeks who will be very glad to see you. Now, I have a lot of work to do, so you will have to hold telling me what the hell you've been doing for the last fourteen months until we have some cold beers in our hands."

Fuck, she thought. It's been more than a year. "Eywa ngahu, Chief Ortiz," she said.

"Eywa ngahu, La Capitán," he replied.


	9. Past Possessive

**Past Possessive**

"That was hard," said Trudy. "One of the hardest things I have ever done."

Her companion did not answer as they walked together towards the admin building. Eventually, Ableryder muttered, "What would you know. Skxawng."

Trudy was sick of people calling her a moron. Usually it was justified, but she wasn't going to accept it this time. She grabbed at Ableryder's arm to force her to say it to her face, when she stopped in total shock. Tears were running down the Ni'awve Mokri's face. Trudy had never seen a Na'vi with an expression of such total anguish before.

"What is it?" Trudy asked kindly. She could not think what was causing her fellow Tipani such pain.

The Ni'awve Mokri wiped her tears away, breathed in deeply and closing her eyes, slowly released her breath. "I'm fine," she said finally, opening calm eyes. "There is nothing wrong." She resumed walking to the airlock, and waited by the door. Trudy wanted to bombard Ableryder with questions, but the determined expression on her face precluded the possibility of any answer.

A human woman stepped out of the airlock, wearing the inevitable exopack. Trudy was not surprised to see that she recognised her. After all, she had known most of the long-term RDA employees – there hadn't been much else to do during rec hours except get drunk with them.

The woman's name was Kendra Midori. She had kept largely to herself when Trudy had known her, spending most of her time doing science stuff - something to do with biological adaption to the Pandoran atmosphere. At least that's what Norm Spellman had told her once. The buzz about Midori from the male mercs was that it wasn't worth trying to score with her – she just wasn't interested in men.

"Hello, Cathy," said the human to Ableryder, her face frozen of almost any expression.

"Kendra," acknowledged Ableryder. "How are you?"

The stilted words from both women hit Trudy like a club. Beyda'amo was right – she really Saw less than a rock. The tension in the air between them was palpable, almost physical. Trudy softly breathed out, "Oel ngati kameie." For the first time she really understood the Na'vi greeting, actually Seeing into the hearts of the two women – one human, one Na'vi – and understanding the doomed love that they held for each other.

Kendra turned to face Trudy, politely repeating the Na'vi greeting. She frowned at the Na'vi warrior, asking, "Have we met before?" The expression on her face was puzzled.

"Srane," replied Trudy. "Under very different circumstances." Again, her words were in Na'vi. It seemed she had to force herself to speak English now.

The frown on Kendra's face deepened, clearly visible through the plastic faceplate of the exopack. "I'm sorry, I cannot recall when we met previously," she apologised. "Your face is strangely familiar, though."

Trudy felt Ableryder's hand grip her arm just above the wrist, very hard – if she gripped any harder Trudy was going to end up with a broken arm. As it was, she expected to see some very prominent bruising around her forearm tomorrow.

Ableryder said calmly in English, "Is Max on base? I need to speak to him."

Kendra nodded. "I'll go get him," she said, and disappeared back into the airlock.

"Why didn't you say anything?" growled Trudy softly. "She could be with you now, if you told her she could be Na'vi – the same way I did."

There was no reply.

Trudy decided she had to shake Ableryder out of her emotional stasis. "Ni'awve Mokri is without words," she mocked. "Too afraid to say what she feels – more than three years a Na'vi and still she understands nothing." Trudy twisted her arm, flinging the hand gripping her forearm away. Her voice laden with contempt, she snarled, "You not Tipani, you still uniltìrantokx, wanting to wake up a human, a filthy tawtute, safe in your little box away from the embrace of Eywa."

With a scream of rage Ableryder flung herself on Trudy, who suddenly found herself fighting for her life. Perhaps it hadn't been too smart to enrage the greatest warrior of the Tipani. There was no time to draw her knife – just enough to try and block her attacker using all the skills that Beyda'amo had so painfully instilled in her. Fortunately, Ableryder had not drawn her weapons either, attacking with nail, tooth and claw. But her strength was terrifying, and the only thing keeping Trudy alive was that her erstwhile companion was so enraged that she had abandoned all her fighting skills.

Just as Trudy caught a solid blow to the jaw, rattling her brain and knocking her to the ground, a voice yelled, "Stop!" The order was immediately followed by an automatic weapon firing six shots into the air – or at least she hoped it was into the air. Actually, now she thought about it was probably five shots – but it might have been six. Five or six shots, or however many there were, they must have had some effect, for the whirlwind attacking her suddenly ceased. Perhaps whoever had fired the gun had shot Ableryder, if she was really lucky, and Trudy would get to live.

When Trudy opened her eyes – that was strange, she hadn't realised they were closed – she saw a familiar face behind the plastic of an exopack attempt to swim into focus. "Hi, Norm," she mumbled groggily. "Why aren't you blue?"

"Trudy?"

She fainted.


	10. Exclamation

**Exclamation**

It was cold. Trudy hadn't been this cold...well, she hadn't been this cold since forever. Was she dead? There was a voice, babbling some kind of foreign language.

"She's coming around," it said.

Trudy knew that voice. Her eyes fluttered open to see cold white light. Maybe she was in the afterlife.

"Urrgh," she complained. "My head hurts."

"Is that really you, Trudy?" asked Norm. She hadn't been mistaken. He was really the sweetest geek on all Pandora.

"Hi, babe," she said. She sat up abruptly, and wished she hadn't. The world swung dizzily around her until it settled with only a slight eccentric orbit around her head, when she realised that she was in the Avatar decanting room. She greeted the other occupant of the room with a laconic, "Hey, Max. How is it hanging? Long time no see."

"Harrumph," said Max, studying his data pane. "The brain definitely isn't human - Typical Na'vi trinary-lobed structure." He looked up at her face and commented, "Facial structure is standard Na'vi as well, although there are distinct points of similarity with the suspected deceased subject." His gaze returned to the data pane, dialling up the magnification.

"Max, it is me – Truti'tsakon. Stop looking at your fucking data pane and look at me," she complained. Something wasn't right with the way she said her name. "I mean Trudy Chacon, chopper pilot to the stars."

"Shut up!" Both of you!" yelled Norm, gripping his fists in anger.

Trudy's mouth fell open. Norm had never been this assertive before, and she decided she liked it.

"It's been more than a year," stated Norm, in a much quieter but implacable voice. "We all thought you were dead."

"Chief Ortiz didn't," she said in a very small voice, as though this was a major piece of evidence in her favour. "And I've only been awake for about six months or so. Jake found out the day I woke up."

"But how...why...why didn't you come here?" Norm demanded.

Her usual bravado wasn't there to protect her. Not against Norm. Tears welled in her eyes as she admitted, "I wasn't sure you would want me, not if we couldn't be together, like in the shack. I mean, I can't even kiss you now. It would have to be your uniltìrantokx body that I kiss – that isn't enough for me. I mean your Avatar body. And don't say anything about going through the eye of Eywa. I don't want you to risk it."

"Don't you think that should be my choice?" asked Norm quietly.

She felt very guilty. Norm was right – he should be allowed to choose. The strange thing was is that he wouldn't have said this a year ago – not in the same way. He had changed – he had become quieter, stronger. But there was still more she had to say. "There was something I had to do. I mean, you're clever with your geek stuff. I'm a pilot. If I couldn't fly...why would anyone want me? I would be no-one, nothing. Now I have Nari'ong." Her huge golden eyes shone. "He's not a Samson. He's even better."

Norm looked at her steadily. She might be Na'vi now, but the simplicity of her soul blazed from her, like the sun in the sky, just like it had when he first saw her fly her Samson. She had been very proud that she had hauled herself out of the barrio gang wars to achieve her dream of flying a chopper. It was a core part of who she was. He knew how delicate the armour she wore over her true self was. If she lost her pride in herself, she would shatter into a thousand pieces.

"I understand," he sighed. His eyes took on a glint of steel as he added, "It doesn't mean that I liked living here, thinking you were dead."

Trudy reached for his hand, enveloping it in her gentle grasp and kissing it gently. "I'm sorry, babe...I just couldn't."

"But how..." interrupted Max, his hands spread wide, almost pleading for knowledge.

Trudy shrugged. "Fucked if I know, Max. One moment I was falling out of the sky, burning up, the next moment I was vomiting up what tasted like the Atlantic Ocean, and I was a bare-assed little blue coupe with racing stripes. You'll have to ask the Ni'awve Mokri what the hell she did to me. But I'm glad she did her hoodoo guru thing – I'd be dead otherwise."

"The scans can't tell any difference from a native-born Na'vi. It's like you were born here," he protested.

"Perhaps I was," she replied. She felt her jaw tentatively. It didn't seem as though it was broken, but she felt as though she had placed her head under a steam-hammer. Damn that woman – who needed knuckledusters when you could land a blow like that one. Trudy was never getting in another bitch fight with Ableryder.

Norm asked, "Who is the Ni'awve Mokri? It sounds like some spiritual title."

"The butch bitch pounding the gray matter out of my head," replied Trudy. "She used to be an Avatar driver called Cathy Ryder, up until three years ago. She hooked up with the Tipani, and passed through the Eye of Eywa, long before Jake ever did." Trudy poked her jaw again. It was going to be really sore.

"Ryder!" exclaimed Max. "We lost four Avatars and their drivers when there was some trouble with the Na'vi around then – she was one of the drivers we lost. There were hundreds of merc casualties, but it was all hushed up. I never found out what really happened. Almost all the survivors were rushed off-planet back to Earth, except for a few of the really hard core psychos like Quaritch."

"Ableryder happened to them," said Trudy. "She's like an old-time warrior hero with a direct line to Eywa. The Tipani war-songs say the tawtute were burnt by her anger like the grasslands by a wildfire. She even slew the tawtute commander when she woke the Well of Souls from slumber."

"Why haven't I heard any of this?" asked Norm.

"We don't really mix with the other clans," said Trudy, "Not like the Omaticaya."

"We?" commented Norm, raising an eyebrow.

"Um," admitted Trudy, "I'm sort of Tipani now."

"Max," said Norm firmly, looking deep into Trudy's eyes, "You need to go and do an inventory check of link unit spare parts, or something. Now."

"What?" asked Max. "Oh." The bearded scientist grabbed his data pane and left the decanting room via the airlock at a great rate of knots.

"I think you have better start at the beginning, Trudy," ordered Norm, once he heard the airlock door seal close with a slight hiss.

"Yes, Norm," she replied meekly. He was definitely a lot more assertive.


	11. Interrogative

**Interrogative**

Ableryder had taken up a squatting position, leaning against the wall of the decanting room as she balanced precariously on the balls of her feet, the backs of her thighs resting on her heels. It was trickier than sitting on the ground, and it wasn't the most graceful of positions. But it was comfortable, as she didn't have to worry about squashing her tail.

It was on this very spot that she first walked in her Avatar body under the Pandoran sky, an eternity ago. The whole experience had been trippy, incredibly exciting, but it all turned to shit so fast when she realised that she had been brought to this world to destroy the Na'vi. She couldn't do it – not to an entire race of sentients, not after the Marianas Trench incident. She was already responsible for the death of millions. Ableryder had defected to the Na'vi cause as a penance for her sins, but even then there was too much blood on her hands – human blood. She had slain hundreds of mercenaries without pity – not at a distance with technological weapons like a tawtute, but up close with axe, club and blade. Even when she used a bow to kill she could hear the arrow biting into flesh, and she had felt nothing.

There was no doubt about it. She was a remorseless killer – the spirit of a palulukan walking in an Avatar body.

Trudy was lucky she was still alive. If Ableryder hadn't completely lost control, she would have drawn her blade and spilled Trudy's guts on the ground. It was only when the tawtute came out and fired the gun into the air that she realised what she was doing to a member of her own tribe.

The gentle pilot's words had been blunt, but they carried the ring of truth. Ableryder was still human at her core, and she still wished she could wake up, lifting the cover of the link chamber into the air, and exchanging a few words with the Avatar crew. She had learnt nothing from her time as a Na'vi.

Why had Eywa persisted with her?

"Temper still getting the better of you?" asked a voice to her left, making her start in surprise. It was the first time that someone had been able to creep up on her since she had first occupied her Avatar body.

It was Kendra.

"Yes," she replied, a whole range of emotions and meanings tied up in that single word.

Kendra walked around to stand directly in front of her, her hands on her hips. In this position she was looking directly into Ableryder's face without having to crane her neck.

"I haven't seen you since the Venture Star left," said Kendra, her voice steady and calm. "That's over a year. You went without saying good-bye."

Guilt struck at Ableryder's heart, and she wanted to look away, but there was nowhere she could go. She bit her lip and said, "I'm sorry, Kendra. I..." She couldn't say any more.

Her erstwhile lover stepped forward so that she was standing between Ableryder's thighs, removing her exopack in a slick movement. Before the Tipani warrior could protest, Kendra's lips were pressed against hers in a gentle, passionate kiss. Ableryder's eyes closed as she was deluged in a sea of sensation, feeling something she had never expected to feel again – the loving kiss of her soul-mate. She felt Kendra's hands grasp her head, deepening the kiss, and her arms crept around the human's small body, holding the precious soul it contained close. She was lost.

It was only when a small hand cupped her breast, making her growl with pleasure, that she realised what was happening. They had been kissing for at least a minute. She pulled away in a panic, to see Kendra's face smiling at her. She was still conscious.

"W-what...How?" stammered Ableryder.

The human reached down to the ground, picked up her exopack mask and refitted it over her face, quickly activating the seal. "Pah," she said. "Pandoran air tastes like old socks."

"Why aren't you unconscious on the ground?" demanded Ableryder.

"You weren't trying hard enough, Cathy," said Kendra, laughing at her. When Ableryder glared at her, she tapped her facemask and added, "Disposable nose filters, good for just under an hour of continuous use. The idea was to make it easier to eat and drink out on the field, and reduce dependence on relocatable buildings and pup tents. The Venture Star brought them in, but the paperwork to issue them was never completed before the trouble started. The only problem is that they take a little practice to use properly, and it's not a good idea to talk – too much temptation to breathe in."

Kendra had a very stubborn look in her eye as she said, "Before you start making excuses for me, I decided long ago that I only wanted one person, and her name is Cathy Ryder. I don't care if she is ten foot tall and blue with stripes, or a little green midget, or if I have to work a little harder to kiss her. I don't even mind having an aftertaste of old socks."

She continued on relentlessly, "I know I can't make tsahaylu with you, but I want to give you all I can. I just hope my love is enough."

"I surrender," said Cathy Ryder - for once not the implacable Tipani warrior.

Her lover smiled. "Come with me. I want to start an in-depth investigation on Na'vi comparative anatomy, but I don't want to do it out here where everyone can watch."

Ableryder stood up, taking Kendra's hand, and allowed herself to be led off to the Avatar long house.

A couple of hours later the two lovers were curled together on a bed, comfortably naked apart from one exopack. Kendra asked, "Why were you fighting with that Na'vi girl?"

The Tipani warrior reluctantly replied, "Because she told me I was an idiot for not telling you how I felt."

"Smart woman," said Kendra. "What is her name?"

Here was the moment where Ableryder had to tell the truth, no matter what the consequences. She swallowed nervously, and said, "Trudy Chacon."

There was a moment's silence, followed by Kendra turning over so she could look at Ableryder in the face. "You mean the pilot who defected to the Omaticaya, who, contrary to popular opinion, just happens to be both alive and full-blood Na'vi now?"

"Yes," said Ableryder, who then rushed into an explanation of the origins of the Na'vi, and the technology she found at the Well of Souls, and how Eywa told her to use it to save Trudy's life.

She waited anxiously for a reply from her lover, who had been listening without a single interjection or question, or change of expression from what appeared like mild curiosity.

"Trudy was right," commented Kendra. "You are an idiot. You realize that if you had told me after she had been rebirthed, I could have been a full Na'vi by now, and my tongue wouldn't taste like old socks."

"But it's dangerous," protested Ableryder. "You might die."

Kendra placed a finger against her lover's lips. She said firmly, "You're worth it. We leave for the Well of Souls first thing tomorrow."

That was clearly the end of that particular discussion.


	12. Possessive

**Possessive**

Trudy wandered idly across the tarmac of the landing field in the early morning light. She was finding Norm very difficult to read. He had barely said anything yesterday, disappearing back into the human area of Hell's Gate just before sundown.

She missed the companionship of the tribe at the evening meal, although the dreamwalkers tried to make up for her sadness, bombarding her with questions about life with the Tipani. Even they left after a couple of hours, as the tawtute spirits abandoned their uniltìrantokx bodies to return to their own. Ableryder had been closeted with her lover all night, and there was no way Trudy was going to intrude on them. She wanted to retain possession of her head, thank you very much.

At sunrise she not surprised to find that both of them were gone, and for the first time since she had woken as a Na'vi she was lonely.

This was strange. When she was human, she had not felt the need for constant company, and spent much of her time alone. It had been safer, to avoid people and the entanglements they created. Look what happened when she got involved – burnt to a crisp and transmogrified into a Na'vi. All she wanted to do was fly somewhere beautiful. And Pandora was most beautiful place she had ever seen. That was why she had volunteered to ferry the science 'zoids around, despite the danger from the Pandoran wildlife, and the danger with having to spend time with the same people all the time. Before she realised it, she had made friends.

And now she was Pandoran wildlife.

Not that she regretted it – Nari'ong alone was more than worth the change, let alone the warmth of being a Tipani. It was just...

"Hey, Trudy!" shouted Norm. "Wait for me."

The geekiest looking Avatar in existence – or Na'vi, for that matter - was running after her.

Trudy sighed to herself. It had been a huge mistake to sleep with him, back when Grace had been alive and they had been in the shack up in the mountains. It was supposed to have been just a little not-so-innocent fun while Jake was doing his learning-to-be-Omaticaya thing, some sweaty friendly exercise, but stupidly she developed feelings for the guy. And they were still there.

She half-turned towards him. She was thinking to herself that damn, he looked good without a shirt, when her eyes narrowed. There was a group of three bullet scars in his chest and left shoulder. If the same grouping had hit a human, his arm would have been blown off.

Trudy snarled, "What the fuck happened to you?" She instantly regretted her words, as his face assumed the expression of a puppy that had been scolded for playing inside.

"What? Oh, that," he said, as she pointed with her chin at his shoulder. His right hand unconsciously brushed the scars, and he gave a small shudder in remembrance of pain. "It was the battle..."

"I thought I told you to be careful," she snapped, her ears laying back against her skull. The idiot could have got himself killed, Avatar or no Avatar. A driver had died in the early days of the program when his Avatar had been killed by a thanator, his heart stopping from the shock, even though the full medical facilities of the main link room had been on tap.

Norm's eyes blazed with anger, "You can talk," he spat. "I didn't get blown out of the sky and disappear for over a year."

"Yahhh!" she screamed, springing at him and knocking him to the ground. They rolled in the dirt, grappling, scratching and biting, spitting their fury at each other, when an explosion went off in their heads. Unwatched, the ends of their queues by chance pressed together under Norm's back, the pink tendrils intertwining into the bond of tsahaylu. A kaleidoscope of emotions burnt into Trudy's brain, anger and hurt and pain, but all were overwhelmed by a flood of love. Before she knew it, her arms were wrapped around Norm's neck and she was kissing him.

After an eternity, her eyes opened and she broke the kiss. "I See you," she whispered.

Norm smiled at her. "Oel ngati kameie, Trudy Chacon," he murmured, stroking her hair.

"Truti'tsakon," she corrected, and began to laugh. Only Norm could have made the mating bond of tsahaylu by accident. Norm feeling her amusement through the bond, laughed with her. She stood up, took his hand and hauled him to his feet. "We have a lot to talk about," she said softly, leaning against his solid chest.

Looking puzzled, he said, "What? I thought..."

She chuckled, "That has always been your problem, Spellman. You think too much." She tweaked his nose and started walking back to the Avatar long-house, leading him by the hand, telling him, "If you think I'm going to let you get away..."

Norm said, "We can go see Mo'at this afternoon. She should be able to arrange for me to pass through the Eye of Eywa in the next day or two."

"Good," said Trudy possessively. "I don't want you unlinked and ogling any human hussies."


	13. Transitive Case

The Samson flared for landing, settling down on a postage stamp sized piece of flat land, some distance away from the village. Kim had chosen the LZ - it was far enough back from the cliff tops to not be affected by the savage updrafts she had felt in her previous overflight.

"Secure all the weapons," ordered Sharon, as the roar of the engines died. "Grommets may be crawling all over the chopper. An accidental discharge that blows one of their heads off will dampen our welcome, and I'd rather not have to post a guard while we are here."

Linda did not object to the order, even though she technically outranked Sharon. "What rank were you before you were frocked?" she asked, knowing that all Operators in SASR were nominally Troopers – equivalent to a Private in a normal unit.

"Halftrack," answered Sharon. "I was a chook, before I learnt how to strangle the fuckers." She grinned, "My fuckbuddy at the time nominated for the gaz selection course, and I put my name down for a lark to see how far I would get. He didn't get past the entry test." She chuckled, "He didn't get another entry test with me either."

"I suppose even the physical requirements for a woman were pretty tough," said Linda, unlimbering her door gun. "What were they set at? Seventy-five percent of the male standard?"

"A hundred," replied Sharon laconically, stowing the ammunition belt for the starboard door gun. "I was pretty fit when I started."

"You're serious?"

Sharon shrugged, "There wasn't any room for passengers in the chook stranglers – not even to satisfy the gender equity foncs. I was the only slit operator during my entire hitch."

Sabine interrupted, "We have an audience."

About twenty Na'vi women, two very familiar males and a scattering of children had gathered a respectful distance away.

"What now?" asked Kim nervously.

"We go say hello," was Sharon's answer, picking up her bow.

* * *

As it turned out, they didn't really get to say hello. Kim and Linda were swept off by a bunch of women with children trailing behind, while Maweypay and Sabine did their usual disappearing act.

"Zola'u nìprrte," said Alìmtaw.

The LZ was suddenly empty of people.

"Oeru meuia," replied Sharon. She laughed at his formality, ran lightly the few steps between them and took his hand in hers. "Ngaru lu fpom srak?"

"Srane," said Alìmtaw. "Ngaru tut?"

"Srane," she replied. Now that had greeted each other, and confirmed that they were both well, there was a strange silence that didn't need to be filled. Instead, they just looked at each other.

"I am glad you are here," said Alìmtaw eventually. "I missed you."

Sharon squeezed his hand. She didn't want to speak, she was too happy to talk.

"Would you like to see our village?" he asked.

She nodded.

* * *

The village of the Ikran People was not like that of one of the forest clans. There were no giant Hometrees this close to the seashore – the salt in the air burnt their leaves and kept them small and stunted. Instead, the dwellings of the People were woven together of different types of small trees, around a large open space, while a number of ikran roosted on the cliff face that dropped away to the sea below.

But these were only the sleeping places of family groups, and where belongings were kept.

A well-worn pathway led towards a huge rock boulder leaning against a rock face. Alìmtaw led Sharon around the boulder, and into a tunnel behind. The floor was worn smooth by generations of Na'vi feet, and the smooth walls were painted with many simple images of animals and Na'vi hunters. "This where the clan takes refuge when the autumn storms come," said Alìmtaw.

The tunnel opened up into a huge cavern, lit with the strange lamps of the Na'vi.

"It is beautiful," said Sharon. That was the only word for it. They walked through the cavern, until near the rear there was a small hole in the floor, barely wider than he rshoulders.

Alìmtaw said, "You must go down there."

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"The olo'eyktan awaits you, Zharr'n," he said. "I may not proceed further. It is forbidden."

What the fuck? She thought this was supposed to be a trip to try Na'vi food, and instead she was being told to go spelunking, solo, and without any gear.

"Do not worry," he reassured her. "My mother told me you will come to no harm."

"Your mother?"

"The olo'eyktan of the Ikran People is my mother," said Alìmtaw. "She is waiting for you."

And Sharon thought she was good at keeping secrets. She bit her lip, nodded, and passed him her bow without another word. The hole looked dark and narrow. It was probably best to go head first.

Sharon was right. The hole was dark and narrow, and unlike the cavern she had left, it was damp. The drips of water that fell on her were icy cold, and she could see no end to the tunnel. Nor was there anywhere to turn around, no matter how flexible she was.

"This is fucking average," she growled. It was then that she thought she could see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. Even better, she knew it wasn't a train, and she was no gormless coyote.

* * *

She emerged into a small cavern, lit by daylight. There was a large hole in the roof, allowing both sunlight and what looked like glowing roots of trees to drop down, drinking from the pool of water that filled most of this chamber.

"I See you, Zharr'n of the Uniltìranyu," said the red-painted bitch. Sharon wondered what the paint was, as it had not appeared to run or smeared through the woman's passage through the crawlway she had just used. Unless, of course, the bitch had shimmied down the roots from above. She returned the gesture of greeting.

Txonya smiled. Her pointed teeth were disconcerting, like looking into the mouth of that fucking kxitx'apyoang. "No doubt, you are wondering why you are here."

There didn't seem to be anything else she could say other than, "Yes."

"You will mate soon with my son," she said. "From what he has told me of you, I have need to determine what your role may be within the clan of the Ikran People, for I do not think you wish to remain with the Uniltìranyu." Sharon nodded in agreement. "Good," said the olo'eyktan. "Since you agree, I wish to ask you a question. Depending on your answer, a test may be applied to you. Not the test of Unìltaron, but another test."

"What is the question?" asked Sharon. The slit was superconfident that Sharon was going to be exercising the bearded clam with some horizontal pole vaulting of her son. Pity was that she was right.

"What do you feel within your spirit when you ride a wave?" asked the olo'eyktan of the Ikran People.

Sharon had the irreverent thought that this was a lot of trouble to go through to ask her opinion about surfing. Regrettably, she knew that the shark-toothed bint meant something entirely different. She was silent for a time, until she started to speak – no bullshit, just the unalloyed truth.

"I feel the power of the sea," she replied, "the understanding that I exist only through the sea being willing to bear me, if I tread the balance between the needs of the ocean, and my need to survive." Sharon smiled a crooked smile, adding, "If I seek to challenge the balance, to warp it to my exclusive benefit, the power of the sea will overwhelm and crush me. If I respect the balance, taking only what I need and no more, the sea will consent to show me the inner peace that contains its strength and wisdom, and carry me to where I wish to go."

"You know this?' challenged Txonya.

Sharon shook her head in negation. "No, I do not know this, not by knowing, or by learning," she frowned, struggling for the right words. "I experience this, like I experience the warm rays of the sun, or the coolness of the spring rain as it touches my skin, or the scent of blooming flowers." Sharon's eyes grew misty as she said, "It has always been a part of me, the knowledge of how I come to live in this world."

Txonya shook her head slightly, saying, "To think that a Uniltìranyu..." She stopped for a moment, and continued, "I have been waiting for a long time for one as you to come to us."

"Waiting?" queried Sharon.

The olo'eyktan stepped forward, grabbing hold of Sharon's chin with her right hand. Her hand was pleasantly warm and smooth, thought Sharon, as the woman looked deeply into her eyes. Txonya said softly, "You carry much hurt in your spirit, but wisdom also. I think you have been gone too long from the sea to be truly happy, and wish to return to the centre of your spirit, as once you were."

Sharon gave a single sob, and tears welled from her eyes. This woman had seen into her soul, like no-one else in all of her life.

"I am sorry, my child," said Txonya. "You cannot return to how you were, as an innocent. No-one can." She released Sharon's chin and turned away.

"Why are you doing this to me?" demanded Sharon, her heart aching.

The words of the olo'eyktan were not rushed, almost reluctant. "I have been both olo'eyktan and Tsahik to the clan for many years. My skills of the spirit are not great, as I am torn between the needs of the body of the People, and the needs of their spirit. They are great enough to offer you some healing, to bring you to an understanding, an accommodation with your life and your pain, and perhaps show you how you may live as one of our People."

"This place," continued Txonya, "This cave is not unlike Vitraya Ramunong, the sacred place of the Omaticaya, yet it is different. Here one can hear Eywa, and come to understand a small part of her will, if one is willing, and listens rather than demands."

"How?" asked Sharon, tears drying on her cheeks, although the empty place in her heart still pained her.

Txonya made a gesture towards a low platform. Sharon realised it was not rock, but the roots of many trees, all interlaced together into a hard knot. "Rest here, and you shall hear our mother," advised the olo'eyktan.

Sharon slipped into sleep, and soon began to dream.

She dreamt of a wave, an enormous wave that she rode, bearing her spirit ever higher and faster, until it broke over her, smashing and tearing at her. Sharon struggled, trying to return to the surface of consciousness, when she grew tired and let go.

The boiling waters around Sharon slowly calmed and cleared. She became aware that the water breathed, until it coalesced, forming millions and billions of strands of life, each one separate, yet part of the whole. She floated for a time, lost, yet not afraid of the immensity, for she could see that her spirit formed one tiny strand of this sea of life.

Something was watching her, and knew that she could see, except that seeing was not the right word. Instead, Sharon knew. The world of the threads tumbled madly, until Sharon knew a place where the threads became sparse and sickly, and she understood that this place was Hell's Gate. However, she was not saddened, for Sharon saw that new threads were growing – different to the others, but still part of the whole.

* * *

"Where is she?" demanded Tsa'peen. The three Uniltìranyu women stood in a semi-circle within the cavern of the Ikran People. "It's been five days since anyone has seen Zharr'n."

Alìmtaw looked uncomfortable. He had studiously avoided the visitors, relying on both Maweypay and the healer of the clan to distract Tsa'peen, and the women of the clan to occupy both Kim and Linda, telling them how to care for their forthcoming children. "She is with my mother, the olo'eyktan," he advised. Alìmtaw did not like to lie to these women, for despite their origin he thought of them as friends. Good friends.

"For five days?" demanded Linda. "What can she be doing for five days?"

"She is being measured," he replied. "I cannot tell you more, for it is taboo. Indeed, on my honour I do not know any more than that."

"Is she even alive?" snapped Tsa'peen.

"I'm not fucking sure of that," growled a gravelly voice from behind them, speaking in English. Well, it might have been vaguely classified as English, although it was questionable at best. "I could fang the arse out of a desiccated dingo to get at the bloody baby, I'm so fucking hungry." The voice added, "As long as I had some dead horse. Fucking everything tastes better with enough dead horse, even Luncheon Meat Number Two."

All four swung around to look at the speaker, although Alìmtaw had not understood a single word of the alien tongue. Then again, the look of astonishment on the three women also showed a lack of understanding.

"What the fuck are you all looking at?" said the woman. "I'm not some rupert fondling his budgie smugglers in the middle of fucking Bourke Street."

It sounded like Zharr'n, but it didn't look like Zharr'n.

The woman swallowed with difficulty. "I'd kill for some bitch piss. My burberry is as fucking dry as the red centre after two bloody decades of El Niño," she growled.

"Zharr'n?" asked Tsa'peen.

The woman's face and body was covered in paint, a swirling pattern of red, orange and black.

"Of course it's fucking me," said Zharr'n. "Who else on this dustball has my deft touch with the King's English?" She switched effortlessly to Na'vi, "Alìmtaw, I need to eat and drink before I am presented to the clan. I have no doubt that your mother is an excellent olo'eyktan, but she tends to be forgetful of the frailties of the body. Could you please get me something, before I fade away into the sea-mist."

The male bobbed his head with respect and said, "Srane, Tsahik."

Three mouths fell open as Sharon stepped forward and kissed Alìmtaw on the cheek. "Don't get formal on me, Alìmtaw," she said. "I don't want you standing at attention every time I move." Her eyes dropped down. "Well, some parts of you can stand at attention, if you like."

The three women felt the heat of waves of embarrassment emanating from Alìmtaw, when he grinned, "Yes, Zharr'n, I will get you food and drink. We cannot have you fainting away. Not today." He returned the kiss, but to her forehead, before he strode away – a man on a mission.

"Tsahik?"asked a faint female voice.

That was the last Alìmtaw heard before he left the cavern.


	14. Intransitive Case

**Intransitive Case**

"Are you sure you want to do this, Norm?" asked Jake in a concerned voice. They were standing in front of the Tree of Souls, the Omaticaya filing into the hollow behind them. "You can't change your mind once it starts."

The human answered firmly, "Yes." He gazed up at the Na'vi chieftain, who still looked worried. "Look, Jake. Would you ever give up the chance of being with Ney'tiri?"

Jake shook his head.

"Well, it is like that with me and Trudy," said Norm. "I never thought I had a chance with her – even in the shack, I always thought that she was giving me mercy...you know. Just to fill in an hour or two of her time, and torture the geeky scientist for fun. Before the battle, I never told her that...that I loved her, and then I thought she was gone forever. But now..."

The Na'vi warrior nodded. He knew what Norm was thinking – the wave of love he felt from Ney'tiri every time they joined in tsahaylu was all-encompassing, a testament of how she felt about him. If that what Norm felt from Trudy, there was no wonder that he was willing to give up being human, just to be with her. "I understand," he replied, meaning exactly what he said.

"What is it like?" asked Norm. "The Eye of Eywa, I mean."

Jake wasn't exactly sure how to answer the question. "I suspect it is different for every person," he answered. "So anything I tell you will probably be wrong. Except..."

"Except what?" demanded Norm.

"I think you will be asked to make a choice," said Jake.

"What kind of choice?" asked Norm, as though they were playing a game of Twenty Questions.

Jake shrugged and replied, "Fucked if I know. You'll figure it out, I think – just be yourself."

His friend looked as though he wanted to ask a zillion more questions, but Mo'at bent down and took him by the hand. "Come, Nor'man," she intoned. "It is time."

Trudy was waiting for him on the platform. She looked as nervous as he felt, if not more so. Without a word, she helped him off with his clothing, folding it neatly and placing it to one side. He had teased her about how tidy she was when they were in the shack, being more inclined to dump his clothes in a heap on the floor. She had looked offended at the time, answering that it was a sign of good mental discipline. He supposed it was true – he had never been the most disciplined of people, except when it came down to the search for knowledge. There, he was absolutely meticulous.

As he lay down next to his Avatar, Trudy's lips whispered, "I love you." He smiled, and repeated the same words back to her.

He was strangely calm as he listened to the Omaticaya chanting, until he suddenly felt...everything. Norm could feel the entire world. It was immense, but before he could say anything he started to fall down a tunnel of light, just like making a link to his Avatar.

"Norm Spellman," said the woman. "I hear good things about you. How is your English?"

He blinked several times in confusion, before he realised where he was. It was the link room at Hell's Gate, the dappled light falling through the trees overhead filling the space with a soft, green light. The tall Na'vi woman wearing the lab coat was Doctor Grace Augustine. She had been his hero ever since he had first heard about the Avatar program as an undergraduate at CalTech.

"Good day, Doctor Augustine," he said respectfully. "I have been anticipating working with you on the Avatar program for many years."

"Not bad," she said in the same language. "A little too formal perhaps, but we should knock the sharp edges off you in short order. And please call me Grace. Doctor Augustine makes me feel far too old." She brushed a liana dangling from the tree above aside, reached out and shook his hand.

"Yes, Grace," he said humbly.

"Well, we better get you started," she said, walking over to a link unit. "Time is money, after all."

Norm joined her at the link unit as she opened it up. He was curiously excited, never having seen a human in the flesh, so to speak. When it was revealed, it looked so strange and small, so pale...so pink and hairy. It didn't look healthy, or right, not having blue skin or a queue or a tail. Still, he supposed it looked a little like him. After all, that was why it had been chosen to be a subject for the program.

"Small, isn't it?" commented Grace.

He nodded in reply.

"It gets everyone like that, the first time," she said. "Here, you know what to do." She passed him a viciously curved bone hunting knife. He took the knife and placed it against the creature's ribcage, tensing the muscles in his arm to drive the blade home and give the creature a clean death.

He stood like that for several seconds, until Grace said, "You have to kill it, Norm. We can't replace it with the clone unless you kill it dead."

Shaking his head, he gave the knife back to the scientist. "I can't do it, Grace, not in cold blood," he said. "It doesn't deserve to die. It hasn't done anything."

Grace lifted an eyebrow at him. "Is that your final answer?"

Norm nodded, feeling as though he was making a terrible mistake.

"You know you can't be a part of the program unless you do this?" she persisted.

"Yes," he said firmly.

She shook her head sadly, saying, "Be it on your own head, Doctor Spellman."

Norm suffered another moment of confusion as the link room faded away, leaving the Na'vi woman with him in an empty white space.

"Good to see you haven't changed, numb nuts. Still as idealistic as ever," said Grace rather acerbically. She lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. "Welcome to the Eye of Eywa." The sight of a Na'vi smoking was quite discordant in this place.

"Grace, is that really you?" he asked, dumbfounded. "What was all that about?"

"Who else would it be?" she asked rhetorically. "Eywa? She doesn't turn out for everyone, you know. I'm afraid you have to make do with me."

"I screwed it up, didn't I?" he asked despairingly. "Jake said I had to make a choice, and I made the wrong one."

Grace grinned. "Norm, you made the right decision," she said patiently, using the same tone of voice she had used when scolding him for contaminating a sample with his saliva on his first field trip. "Eywa wanted to know if you were doing this for the right reason. Luckily for you, you gave the right answer."

"Oh," he said.

"You and Trudy," said Grace, shaking her head. "Who would have thought it? Doctor Norm Spellman, Ph.D., xeno-botanist extraordinaire, and the tough little chopper pilot from the LA barrio – soul-mates." She chuckled to herself.

Norm grinned. "It was an accident," he admitted.

"Really?" asked Grace, raising an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that?"

"Oh," he said. Unusually for him, he caught the implication straight away. Usually anything subtle like that zoomed over him like air to ground missile. "What is it like being dead?" he asked, eager to know.

"Can't you come up with a more original question than that hoary old one? Everyone asks that one," she complained. He was about to ask another question when she interrupted, "It's time for you to go."

"But..." he objected.

"No," she said firmly. "Off you go." Grace made a shooing gesture with both hands, as though he was a child – which, he supposed in this context, he was.

As she started to fade away, Grace said, "Just one thing, Norm. Swotulu. Remember it. Swotulu. And give my love to Trudy. She's going to need it."

Norm's awareness raced down a brilliantly lit tunnel. He struggled to open his eyes, and saw Trudy's face hovering anxiously above his. "I See you," he said softly.

She leant forward to kiss him – the best possible answer.


	15. Genitive Case

**Genitive Case**

As they walked down the curing passageway carved out of the floating mountain of Tantalus, Kendra commented, "There is something I'm really curious about, Cathy. Why do you think Eywa depends so much on the efforts of humans to save Pandora, when humans are the destroyers? The Na'vi are her people, after all. You would think that she would motivate them to save themselves."

Ableryder considered her question for a few seconds. "I don't know, Kendra. Perhaps she sees all sentient life as one – a threat and danger to her balance of life. The Na'vi live within her constraints – so they may not be best for meeting a challenge that does not play within her rules, or even understanding the nature of the threat. You know, fighting fire with fire. I think that's why humans have been so important in the struggle against the RDA."

Her lover seemed to accept her answer, eventually replying, "I never thought of it that way before. I can see why she would choose that."

The cavernous space holding the Na'vi gestation tanks was softly illuminated when they entered, replicating the light levels typical of a Pandoran twilight.

"What now?" asked Kendra.

"Strip," ordered Ableryder, leering slightly at her lover. "But don't take off your exo-pack quite yet."

While Kendra was undressing, she said in an off-hand voice, "Have I ever told you how damn hot you look as a Na'vi? I get wet just looking at you, especially as you parade around half-naked all the time."

The Na'vi warrior laughed. "Old socks turn you on," she replied as she touched an opaque panel on the nearest tank. An iris opened on the panel, revealing a round opening several inches across. She took her queue and inserted it into the opening, shuddering as the nerve tendrils interfaced with the alien machine.

"Are you alright?" asked Kendra. "Your face screwed up when you did that."

"I'm ok," she replied. "It's not like tsahaylu with an ikran, or even a pa'li. It's cold, like dragging an icecube across your teeth. It is mostly the machines – they are not alive, even though I can feel Eywa dimly through the interface. She is very distant."

The alien interface swam across her visual field, overlaying the scene before her with strange symbols. She remembered back a year, when Eywa had guided her through this strange process. It had been sickening, placing Trudy into the tank, feeling the scorched tissue crack and break under her touch, weeping with blood and plasma, raw skin sticking to her hands and peeling away. When Ableryder had tried to remove the exo-pack mask from Trudy's face, she found the polymer seal had fused with the skin. She had to quickly slice the mask away, before the pilot could suffocate, leaving the seal attached to her face. Even this process did not totally heal those scars – you could still see the faint outline of the seal on Trudy's face even now, if you looked carefully enough.

The tank opened, reading the movement of her eyes towards the icon in her visual field. This was so much easier than the kludgy user interfaces produced by RDA subsidiaries. "Take off your exo-pack and climb in. As soon as it detects you have entered, the tank will close and start flooding with an super-oxygenated fluorocarbon fluid. Breathe it in as soon as you can, to limit lung damage from the Pandoran atmosphere. You should fall asleep fairly quickly, and you will wake up in about a month. I'll be waiting."

"I thought you said Trudy took about six months," said Kendra.

Ableryder responded, "It took longer due to her injuries. She was lucky to survive. The status lights were glowing purple almost constantly for most of that time."

"Purple?"

"Yeah, purple is red for whoever built these things. They weren't human, that's for sure."

Kendra took a deep breath, discarded her exo-pack and climbed into the tank. Immediately, an oily transparent fluid flooded into the tank, rapidly rising up Kendra's body. She placed her hand against the glass and mouthed three words to Ableryder, before the liquid covered her head.

"I love you too," whispered Ableryder, pressing her hand against the glass over her lover's.

The human breathed out as the fluid covered her face, and then took a large breath in. She struggled briefly against the unnatural feel of the liquid, forcing herself to take several more large breaths to flood her lungs. Her eyelids fluttered briefly, and then closed, her body relaxing into dreamless sleep.

Ableryder glanced over the various status fields in her viewfield, reflecting it is was just as well her lover was asleep. What the various probes did in reconstructing a human body as a Na'vi would be sure to push anyone into madness, if they had to be conscious during the process. She still had nightmares about watching Trudy Chacon being pulled apart by these ancient alien machines.


	16. Future Indefinite

**Future Indefinite**

"Different, huh?" commented Jake. The two former dreamwalkers had drawn slightly away from the rest of the tribe.

"Yeah," said Norm. It was different living directly in his Avatar body. It was realer...more real...realer than real. When he had looked down on his empty human body, it seemed like a pile of dirty clothes that he hadn't put in the laundry basket – just something to be tidied away. "The orbital telescopes picked up the _White Star_," he said. "It is in the standard braking trajectory. Ninety-four days. That's how long we have before it enters Pandoran orbit."

Jake carefully whittled the fragrant timber he held in his left hand, delicately applying the finishing touches to the toy ikran. He stopped, inspecting it closely and rubbed carefully at the head. "Do you have the manifest?"

"It's mostly mercs with a smattering of support personnel," answered Norm, watching Jake's patient fingers. "They are fully kitted out with weapons. It seems that the RDA anticipated that they might be looking at a hot landing, even five years ago. It isn't answering hails, either."

"Damn. The news is out, it seems," said Jake, engraving some complex markings on the ikran's body. "Do they have any capability to do air-to-ground from orbit? If they hit the Tree of Souls with a kinetic strike, we're screwed. The Air Force was introducing a smart weapons system called Project Thor when I was in Venezuela – just steerable metal bars about forty feet long with a non-nuclear warhead. I saw a trial drop when I was in the field – rubbed out an entire valley for less than the cost of a Samson. They could even hit all the Na'vi population centres, and wipe us out for a couple of hundred million. There would be nothing we could do to stop them. Ten kilos of unobtainium would cover the entire cost – the RDA would think it cheap at the price. I've been worrying about it since the _Venture Star_ left."

"I'd say we have got four years before we have to worry about that little nightmare scenario," commented Norm. He hadn't even considered the prospect of being attacked from orbit. He added cautiously, "There are three Avatars and their drivers on the list – a geologist, an ecologist and an atmospheric physicist."

"You're wrong about four years, Norm." The expression on Jake Sully's face was bleak. "I'm sure they already have plans for Project Thor transmitted from Earth – the joys of super-luminal communications. All they need is to secure Hell's Gate and the stereo-lithography plant. In a couple of days they could start churning out weapons, haul them into orbit and then we are fucked. That's what I would do, if I was them. Quaritch was a fucking lunatic incompetent to run a full assault, and gamble everything on a single throw of the dice. I was counting on him to be suckered into it when I summoned the clans together."

"Fuck," whispered Norm. "I had no idea."

Jake grinned at his friend. "You were thinking too much about a certain chopper pilot to be paying much attention to your higher thought processes."

Both their heads turned to look at Trudy, who was deep in conversation with Ney'tiri and Ninat. The topic appeared to be men, as there seemed to be a lot of laughing, and Ninat was blushing a deep shade of cerulean.

"You're a lucky man," said Jake. "She is one hell of a woman."

"I know," said Norm. He continued cautiously, "I dreamt I saw Grace in the Eye of Eywa."

"Oh?" questioned Jake. He didn't seem at all surprised.

"I don't remember much of what she said – it was very confusing – but she said something about Swotulu. Isn't that the name of an area in Tipani territory?"

Jake nodded. "That sounds pretty much like a command from Eywa. I think I know where you'll be spending your honeymoon."

Norm grinned. "If it gets out what Na'vi sex is like, the Avatar program is going to be flooded with applicants – even if the price is you stay with one partner for the rest of your life."

His friend grinned back and replied, "I won't deny there was something in what Quaritch said about local tail. What I felt for Ney'tiri was a huge part of my decision to be with the Omaticaya – and the sex totally blew my mind."

"So what do we do about Hell's Gate? Destroy the stereo-lithography plant?" Norm's eyes remained on Trudy's face, but his serious expression matched his questions.

"I wish it was that easy," said Jake. "We need to maintain the plant to keep the humans that stayed alive. If not, they'll all be dead within six months. I'm not doing that to Max and the others that stood with the Na'vi. We are just going to have to hold Hell's Gate against any assault, or recapture it if we lose it."

"Shit," swore Norm softly, thinking that it was a real bitch having a sense of honour.


	17. Accusative Case

**Accusative Case**

"Hell's Gate has made an attempt to contact us, Captain," said the communications officer.

"Was it an automated response?" The Captain leant back in his chair, watching the sky field tumble on the viewscreen. It was a shame he couldn't have a real window – the cosmic radiation it would allow through when the _White Star_ was travelling at relativistic velocities would take only a matter of days to kill everyone on the bridge. He sipped his cup of coffee. At least this ship had gravity in the crew areas, so he didn't have to use drink bulbs. Once you got used to the Coriolis effect from the module spin, it was almost like being on Earth.

"No, sir," replied the officer. "It was live video feed. One of the traitors was on the tube – a scientist called Maximilian Patel."

"I'm surprised the blue monkeys haven't killed them all," commented the Captain, "Or that they weren't eaten by the wildlife. What was the content of the message?"

"Words to the effect that we had entered the sovereign planetary system of the Na'vi, and that any attempt to land armed forces on Pandora would be viewed as an act of war," responded the communications officer. "There was a lot more, of course, but that was the essence of the message. I've routed the message to your console."

"It's a pity the company didn't equip us with any Thor missiles," mused the Captain. "Then we could abide by the traitor's instructions, and still swat them like the insects that they are."

"Yes, sir. Shall I arrange for the mercenary leadership cadre to be brought out of cryo?"

The Captain nodded. The ground pounders would appreciate a couple of months to plan the assault. If they could capture Hell's Gate more or less intact, the whole fiasco created by those idiots Selfridge and Quaritch would be cleaned up in a matter of a week or two.


	18. Objective Case

**Objective Case**

Max chewed over the content of the reply from the _White Star_. He had run the message through a program he had used to assess Na'vi emotional state through facial expressions, reset to human values. When the captain of the vessel had stated that he would respect the rights of the Na'vi as requested, but would need to enter Pandoran orbit to refuel so they could return to Earth, the truth index sank almost down to zero.

He reached for the communications console to make a call, receiving an answer almost immediately.

"Yes, Max," said Jake Sully's voice.

"I've analysed the message we received from _White Star_," he said. "They're going to attack, but I don't know where or when."

There were several seconds silence, and Max started to worry that Jake had no idea of how to respond when the Omaticaya olo'eyktan ordered, "We're going to evacuate Hell's Gate. Strip it of everything useful that we can move – including disassembling the stereo-lithography plant. Leave nothing but an empty shell."

"That's going to take months," protested Max. "What about the Avatars? We don't have enough mobile link units to support them."

There was no expression other than total ruthlessness in Jake's voice. "It's time for the drivers to choose - Human or Na'vi. We can't afford any more fence sitting – if they aren't prepared to go through the Eye of Eywa, we let the Avatars die."

"But..." Max protested.

"That's not all. If Kendra Midori survives the alien machines, all the humans that wish to stay will have to follow her example."

Once Max had heard Trudy's story, he had feared that this day was coming. It was going to be war – total war, and there was not going to be any place for those who did not wish to take sides.

"We have three months to prepare," said Jake. "There is no time to waste."

"Where do we relocate?" asked Max.

"The Hallelujah Mountains," answered Jake. "The magnetic flux will disguise the EM radiation emitted by the machinery from orbital sensors, once we camouflage the hell out of it. We're going to give them what they want – Hell's Gate, and then do what Spruance and Halsey did to the Japanese."

"What?" Max wasn't a student of military history, and had never heard of Spruance or Halsey.

"Let them wither on the vine," said Jake. There was no pity in his voice. None.


	19. Split Infinitive

**Split Infinitive**

"This is one hell of a way to spend a honeymoon, babe," yelled Trudy. Her sensitive ears were ringing from the constant clatter of the Samson engines. She had flown more hours in the last seven weeks than she had in the final two years of her employment with RDA – unfortunately little of it with Nari'ong.

There were only two other chopper pilots left on Pandora – there had been three only two weeks ago. Jay Nkomo had bought the farm when drive shaft of his left rotor had failed. The poor bastard didn't have time or space to auto-rotate his chopper down, slamming his Samson into a floating mountain less than five seconds later. Trudy had been flying formation with him, and saw his bird fall to the forest floor in a mass of burning metal. She had woken screaming almost every night since.

Norm was worried sick about her – every morning before they bounced with the first load from Hell's Gate, he could see her hands trembling before she climbed into the cockpit of Samson One-Six, and she was obsessing over pre-flight checks. He knew from the infrequent occasions they had joined in tsahaylu, it was not flying that scared her – when she mounted Nari'ong she showed no sign of fear or concern, leaping into the saddle with the fluidity of a born Na'vi hunter, a true taronyu.

She was terrified of fire.

It was only adrenaline that kept her going, sheer nervous energy and commitment to the Na'vi, and the prospect of Pandora falling again to the RDA. There was no way she was going to let that happen.

Norm was exhausted too. He had been acting as her loadmaster, heaving gear on and off the chopper and securing the loads. Even the greater strength of his Na'vi body was being taxed to the limit. He had no idea how Jake was managing to keep going – he was everywhere, directing the evacuation of Hell's Gate, driving humans and Na'vi alike to the limit of endurance.

All of the Avatars had chosen to pass through the Eye of Eywa. There had been some nervousness about Jake's edict – all of the drivers had asked Norm about what he had experienced – but all of them decided to take the plunge. Curiously enough, every one of them had reported that they had been asked to make a choice of one kind or another – and each choice had been extremely disturbing.

During a break between loads at Hell's Gate, Norm and Trudy had come across Chief Ortiz bent over double in the maintenance hangar, grey-faced and coughing up blood. Trudy had rushed over to him, but he waved her away and shakily stood up. She had asked him what was wrong – it turned out he had inoperable lung cancer, courtesy of long-term exposure to the Pandoran atmosphere. If he had gone into cryo on the _Venture Star_ he wouldn't have woken up, which wasn't the way he wanted to go - the exact words he used were 'no fucking way my ass will check out in fucking cryo'. Then he laughed and told them this planet would kill humans one way or the other – they just weren't meant to be here.

When Norm told him that Ortiz was talking nonsense, he copped a load of abuse about bullshitting scientists and doctors. Trudy had just laughed at her mate, but when they left the maintenance hangar she dragged Norm in search of Max. She found him in what was left of the control room, which like much of the base was now open to the lethal atmosphere, and demanded that Ortiz be taken to the Well of Souls to be tanked immediately.

Max gave her a hard look, and said flatly that they could not afford to lose Ortiz for a month. He was the only person they had left capable of keeping the small number of choppers they had in the air.

Trudy lost it – she grabbed Max by the shirt and lifted him clear off the ground, snarling at him and spitting out Na'vi curses about soulless tawtute. Max was terrified, never having experienced the full fury of a Na'vi warrior – especially from a couple of inches away. It was only through Norm's pleading that she managed to calm down and set him down. She asked in a quiet voice that brooked no opposition when Ortiz could be released from his work. Max nervously picked up his data pane and ran a few calculations. He told them that the evacuation would manage if Ortiz was released in three days.

That was three days ago -Trudy had flown Ortiz to the Well of Souls this morning, to join most of the remaining humans already in the tanks.

Many of the Na'vi had resented the presence of the humans and Avatars remaining after the departure of RDA. Since it had become known that all of the humans were choosing cast their lots in with the Na'vi, this sentiment had evaporated like early morning mist. Already both the Tipani and the Omaticaya were talking of the former humans as the Uniltìrantokx clan – the clan of the dreamwalkers.

"Yeah," shouted Norm in reply. "I'm not getting nearly enough rumpy-pumpy." They had never got to Swotulu, either, he reflected.

His life-mate yelled back, "You and me both, babe." Norm could hear the sly grin in her voice. She was still the tough little Hispanic broad that he had fallen for, no matter she was now nigh on ten foot tall and blue. Another two weeks of this endless flying and they could rest – if only for a little while. Until the _White Star_ arrived.


	20. Punctuation

**Punctuation**

"Wake up, my love. They are waiting."

Cathy Ryder heard the words as thought they were from a million miles away. She sleepily opened her eyes to see Kendra leaning over her, her golden eyes glowing with affection at her lover. Cathy – that was how she thought of herself when she was alone with Kendra – drew her lover's face down, to kiss her lingeringly.

Despite the looming threat of the humans, she had never been so happy in all her life. The joy of sharing tsahaylu with Kendra was indescribable - the sure knowledge that another life-form loved her unreservedly had transformed her life beyond what she could ever have imagined.

Kendra pulled away laughing, saying, "Don't you ever think of anything else?"

"No," smiled Ableryder. She wasn't really lying. All she wanted to do was to spend time with her beautiful Na'vi lover, and if it hadn't been for the _White Star_ that was exactly what they would have been doing.

One advantage of being Na'vi was that it took almost no time to get ready to meet the day. Ten minutes later she was standing alongside Jake Sully in front of hundreds of Na'vi warriors, from the Omaticaya, the Tipani, the Ikran people – Na'vi from dozens of different clans, including the newest – the Uniltìrantokx. They were noticeable by their drab human clothing and the weapons they carried, but now there was no murmuring against them.

Jake spoke quietly, telling the crowd of what was to come. They listened quietly to the Toruk Makto, grim determination on their faces.

"...You all remember what it was like to face the tawtute in open battle. This is not the time for the way of the warrior. If we meet them on the field of battle, many Na'vi will die and we will lose. We must swallow our honour and pride, and use the way of the hunter against the tawtute soldiers. We will deny them the water that they must drink, the food that they must eat and very air that they must breathe."

There was a general murmur of agreement from the multitude of warriors. They understood this kind of war.

Jake continued, "All of you have heard of the valiant deeds of Ableryder of the Tipani. She will speak now, and tell you of what we have planned."

Ableryder stepped forward and began to talk.


	21. Ellipsis

**Ellipsis**

It was crowded in the Valkyrie shuttle craft, packed with soldiers and gear. The mercenary nervously checked his gear, especially his chute and his exo-pack. He hated doing parachute insertions – they were too bloody dangerous, and far too likely to turn into a clusterfuck. And with this one, you couldn't even breathe the fucking air. However, there wasn't much option to do anything else in this assault.

The jumpmaster yelled, "Thirty seconds!"

The rear door of the shuttle opened, and his ears popped. The man next to the mercenary stiffened and started to struggle for air that wasn't poisonous, and quickly slumped to the floor. The merc grunted to himself – the idiot hadn't checked the fit of his exo-pack, and had paid the price. The grunts were packed in too tight to do anything to help him – he would have to wait until the shuttle was empty before the jumpmaster could do anything.

"Ten seconds!"

The mercenary wondered why the fuck he hadn't taken up a sensible career, like chartered accountancy, or men's fashion, rather than turning to the military. Then he wouldn't be in a position like this one – jumping into the most hostile environment known to man, about to be chewed up and spat out by ten foot tall blue savages. They had all seen footage of the battle between the indigenous and the RDA forces. He had almost shit himself when he saw what their fucking bows and arrows did, punching through armoured glass as though it wasn't there, and skewering some poor bastard of a chopper pilot. And those fucking flying lizard things – banshees, or whatever they were called – they had more teeth than a fucking white pointer.

"Go!"

He was the fourth man out the rear door, and snapped into the spread-eagle position, looking for the drop zone. He breathed out a sigh of relief. There it was - a reassuring patch of black asphalt and grey concrete in the endless green of the forest. The Valkyrie pilot knew what he was doing – this was going to be a perfect drop, they were all going to land dead on target. His eyes strained towards the DZ, trying to pick up signs of activity. That's odd, he thought. Nothing was moving. He would have expected that something would be happening. He grinned to himself. Perhaps the blue monkeys were Yids – it was the Sabbath, after all. With that thought he held one hand over his exo-pack mask, holding it close over his face, and yanked the rip cord.

The sound of the canopy deploying was the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

Beyda'amo said to Ableryder, "They float down to the ground like dying leaves falling from a tree. It seems a beautiful way to enter the embrace of Eywa."

"It's a lot of fun," she replied. "You should try it some time."

"You have done this?" asked the Tipani war leader, impressed.

"Yes. It is part of the standard training of any tawtute warrior," she said, remembering the terror of her first jump, followed by the sheer exhilaration that she had survived.

Beyda'amo considered her words for a while. "Perhaps the ways of the tawtute are not all bad," he said eventually. "I think I would like to try this diving from the sky also."

The two Na'vi warriors calmly watched from the canopy of the forest overlooking Hell's Gate as the RDA mercenaries hit the asphalt. One or two of them did not get up – it seems their exo-packs had been jerked off their faces when their chutes opened.

Ableryder replied, "I'm sure we can produce some chutes after we have dealt with these interlopers."

"Good. I will enjoy that."

The mercenary ran up to the major commanding the jump team, just as he was giving an order to the Valkyrie pilot. "...the position is secured. There was no opposition, so bring her in."

"Major," he yelled, panting from the effort of breathing through his exo-pack mask. "It's a trap! All the doors are gone!"

"What?" asked the major.

"The buildings are just shells," cried the mercenary. "There isn't anywhere with breathable atmosphere, not on the entire base."

Another soldier came up and reported, "The warehouses and hangars are all empty. The whole place has been stripped. Even the water tanks are empty. The bastards have blown holes in every one."

"Fuck," swore the major. "We've been suckered like new born babes. What about the choppers?"

"The turbines have been removed," said a third soldier. "They're not flying anywhere."

The major hesitated. What to do? His thoughts were interrupted by the roar of the Valkyrie on final approach. This mission had turned into a clusterfuck, and he could only see one viable option. Evacuation. They would have to get on the shuttle and go back into orbit with their tails between the legs. He mentally saluted his opponent. What was the quote? Amateurs study tactics, professionals study logistics. If the Na'vi leader was still that traitor Sully, whatever else he was, he was a true professional.

"Look!" shouted a grunt.

Everyone on the landing field looked in the direction he was pointing. A column of smoke was rocketing towards the Valkyrie, followed in quick succession by two more. The Stinger SAM missiles, an ancient design from the twentieth century, had locked on to the heat source of the Valkyrie engines, just as they had done to other aircraft in so many combats over the last two centuries.

The pilot was good, but not good enough. He yanked the huge spacecraft into a climbing turn, pushing the throttles to the wall, generating misses for all three missiles. But Jake Sully had planned the location of his missile crews with care, using all his knowledge of aircraft anti-missile tactics. The pilot flew the shuttle directly into the flight path of the fourth missile, which impacted with the inner port engine, the small explosion of the warhead igniting the fuel in the wing. In less than a second, the entire shuttle craft was blotted from the sky in a ball of flame.

Beyda'amo and Ableryder had been listening to the soldiers report to the officer using a shotgun mike. It was time.

Ableryder looked down the scope of the sniper rifle, breathed out and gently squeezed the trigger. The huge BMG round was perfectly on target, removing the major's face in a spray of grey and red.

There was a second where everyone on the landing squad was absolutely still before they all dropped to the ground, and started crawling for cover.

The Tipani warleader commented, "The soldiers are well trained. Not even Tipani could have reacted quicker."

"The tawtute are very thorough in some things, but not others," said Ableryder. "It is time to move, now, before they localise us."

Beyda'amo grinned his lopsided smile. "I agree. It might become unpleasant otherwise."


	22. Predicate

**Predicate**

Jake squatted on his haunches in front of the communications console, and initiated a call to the captain of the _White Star_. The flight from Hell's Gate had taken little more than an hour, but it was important that his message was communicated back to the RDA.

An image of the bridge of a starship sprang into view, showing a slim, ascetic man with iron-grey hair. Jake said, "Sully here."

The captain of the starship snarled, "You bastard. You fucking traitor..."

Jake held up his hand and interrupted the tirade. "You were warned, captain. You deliberately committed an act of war against the Na'vi, despite the warning you were given. The Na'vi are no longer prepared to be victims of humanity, so if you wish to see any of your troops again, I require your unconditional surrender.

"Never," said the captain.

Continuing as thought the human had not spoken, Jake outlined the terms of surrender. "The Na'vi require that all personnel leave the _White Star_ and are transported unarmed to Hell's Gate, where they will be interned for the duration of the war. All soldiers currently on the Pandoran surface must surrender to Na'vi forces. These terms are not negotiable. Sully out."

He terminated the call, snapping the switch off with a flick of one finger and stood up.

Ney'tiri placed her arms around his slumped shoulders from behind and asked him, "Do you think they will surrender, my Jake?"

Jake sighed. "I hope so. Otherwise we will have to kill every last one of them."


	23. Subjunctive

**Subjunctive**

After the major's death, the mercenary had taken command, established a perimeter based on the outer fence, and pulled all the remaining troops back into the cover of the maintenance hangar. He pulled out an old fashioned hardcopy map and gathered the NCOs around.

"Look, if we stay here we are going to die," he stated bluntly. "There is no hope of getting the other Valkyrie in here, now that the indigenous have SAM missiles. Nor is there any chance of flushing them out while we are surrounded by forest. They only need to get lucky once and we are stuck on this fucking rock forever."

There was a general muttering of assent.

"As I see it, our only option is here." He stabbed a finger on the map. "There is a mining camp that was mothballed three years ago, fifty-three klicks as the banshee flies. Everything was left in operable condition, at least as far as the last reports we received from the _Venture Star_. So there should be food, ammunition and air to breathe. Even better, there is a large open area around the mine that can be used as an LZ for the Valkyrie, if they bring it down in a spiral descent. All we need to do is to get there, establish a perimeter to deny the natives a clear shot with their SAMs, and the shuttle will evac us out."

"It's pretty rugged looking country," commented one of the men. "How long do you think it will take us to get there?"

"There is a road, or rather a trail," said the mercenary, "But we can't use it. I studied the overheads before we bounced, and the forest is solid all the way to the verge of the road. It is perfect ambush territory, and without air cover all we would be achieving is a replay of Quintus Publius Varus and the Teutoberger Wald – inviting defeat in detail."

"_Varre, legiones redde_," said the tallest of the NCOs, clearly a student of classical history. When the others looked at him strangely, he explained, "After the Romans lost three legions there in 9 AD, Emperor Augustus used to roam his palace at night when he couldn't sleep, calling out 'Varus, give me back my legions'."

There was general chuckling from the NCOs. The mercenary smiled to himself. These men were tough and able to laugh in the face of disaster. Thank Christ for small mercies, but he suspected that what they were about to go through was going to be worse than anything the legionaries suffered in that disastrous campaign.

"So we are going to have to go cross country, through the forest," he said calmly. "It is going to take seven or eight days to get to the mining camp, and not all of us are going to make it there. But some will make it, and it is our job to make sure that happens. Some of us are going home."

The NCOs nodded in agreement, their faces suddenly grim. Higher command had fucked the grunts yet again, and it was up to them to pull themselves out of another clusterfuck.

There was one thought in the back of the mercenary's mind. Whoever was running the native Opforce was damned good, and probably already had plans in place for every move he could possibly make. They were well and truly fucked, but he wasn't going to say it. There was no point in extinguishing what little hope his men still had.

"What is the name of this place?" asked one of the sergeants.

"The natives call it Swotulu," he replied.


	24. Indicative

**Indicative**

"Jake'sully was right," said Marali softly. "He truly is nawm tsamsiyu, a great warrior. They are through the forest moving towards Swotulu, to the abandoned tawtute place."

Little more than a year ago, Trudy would have been one of the mercenaries stumbling through the undergrowth below them – one of the sworn enemies of the Tipani. Beyda'amo's mate was correct, though – Jake really did know what he was doing. He had predicted their every move so far. How in the hell had he only ever been a corporal in the Marines? If they had had any sense, the Marines should have made him a general.

She was glad that he was on their side – and she was even happier that Norm was going to be nowhere near the fighting. For all his courage, he was not a warrior, and he made more noise blundering through the forest than a herd of stampeding hammerheads.

"Come, let us follow them for a little way," Trudy told her companion. Beyda'amo had suggested that Trudy pair up with Marali. She had been a little nervous about the suggestion, as it was well known amongst all the Tipani that Marali was extremely possessive of her scarred warrior. When they landed their banshees near Hell's Gate to wait for the tawtute, she asked if Marali minded her being friends with Beyda'amo.

Marali laughed merrily, and told Trudy that of course she didn't mind. She only put on her jealous act to let Beyda'amo know that she really loved him. When the great warrior had been an adolescent, he had been very self-conscious about his scarred face. Marali had always known that he was the one for her, and worked hard to ensure that he knew it too – hence the act. It took him forever to declare himself, because he thought he was too ugly to be attractive – Marali essentially had to pin him to the ground and wrestle an admission of love from him before they mated before Eywa. Now, however, the jealous act was more of a game that they played together than anything serious.

The two Na'vi women ran lightly through the upper branches of the forest, easily keeping within hearing distance of the group of tawtute soldiers they were following.

"Look," whispered Marali. "The tawtute See nothing. They are walking straight towards a txumpaywll, a scorpion thistle."

One of the soldiers brushed against the plant, causing it to spray out a cloud of yellow pollen from the huge single flower. The acidic cloud enveloped the unfortunate soldier, who immediately dropped to the ground and started to writhe in agony, his hoarse screams echoing through the forest as the corrosive material sunk deep into his skin. The other soldiers drew away, waiting for the cloud to dissipate. When it did there were gasps of horror – most of his epidermis had been eaten away, but he was still alive.

The leader of this group raised his gun and fired a single shot, silencing the agony of the unfortunate soldier. "Keep moving, and watch what you touch," he said calmly.

One of his soldiers protested, "You shot Collins."

"The noise was going to bring the Na'vi down on us, or something much worse," said the NCO. "In any case, it was the only thing we could do for him – there is no dust-off on this march. Now shut up and keep moving."

Marali made a hunting sign to Trudy. It was time to start thinning out the weeds.

Trudy nocked an arrow and drew her bow. She took careful aim, and released the string cleanly. It was a good shot.

The NCO grunted as the massive arrow punched a hole between his shoulder blades, the razor sharp stone arrowhead erupting on a downward angle through his gut. The NCO looked down at the gory sight and very clearly said, "Fuck." He dropped to his knees, and toppled sideways, dead.

Three of the soldiers immediately started firing their assault rifles up into the trees, spraying rounds in random directions, when another one yelled out, "Cease fire, cease fire!"

The two Na'vi women had immediately dropped flat, relying on the thick horizontal truck they had been standing on to protect them from any stray rounds.

The soldiers stopped firing. The new leader said, "Conserve your ammo. Only shoot at what you can see. We have to make our loads last a week." He bent over and collected the magazines of his two dead comrades, and distributed them to the remaining men. "Now move out."

The soldier watched his men move out, and then bent down to break the shaft of the arrow that killed the NCO. Trudy hissed to herself – that had been her favourite hunting arrow. He would pay for that.

No more soldiers were lost to the forest for the rest of the day – at least not in the group that Marali and Trudy were trailing. When darkness fell, the soldiers found what seemed like a defensible position, and set up sentries to keep watch. The rank smell of so many tawtute in a single place filled Trudy's nostrils, making her curl her face in disgust.

Marali saw the expression on her face, commenting, "The tawtute do not smell like flowers."

"No, they do not," she agreed, and they settled down to wait.

It was well after midnight when they swung down from the trees. This time Marali took the lead, stalking one of the sentries, flitting from one shadow to another, while Trudy kept an arrow nocked on her bowstring, ready to fire if she disturbed any of the sleeping soldiers.

The Na'vi crept up behind the sentry, who was walking slowly around the perimeter of the position. She drew her knife, and in a single swift move plunged her bone hunting knife down through the base of his neck into the heart, killing him instantly. She caught the body, and lowered it gently to the ground, automatically mouthing the prayer to Eywa, begging forgiveness.

Marali beckoned Trudy forward. Running lightly on the balls of her slim feet, almost like a dancer, Trudy silently entered the encampment. She recognised the man who had broken her arrow sleeping between the recumbent bodies of two of his comrades. Quickly, she dispatched both of the men on either side of him with her knife, and left the halves of the broken arrow lying alongside the man.

As silently as they entered the encampment, the two Na'vi women withdrew, retreating back up into the branches of the forest.

"I saw what you did," said Marali.

Trudy gave her a twisted smile. "He broke my best arrow," she said wistfully. "I wanted him to know I was not happy."

Marali embraced her friend. "You were never tawtute," she said simply. "Your soul has always been Na'vi. Even when you walked without a tail you were Na'vi, you just did not know."

There was nothing else to do but to embrace her back, and Trudy felt her eyes grow damp with tears.

"Come," ordered Marali. "It is time to go. We are both tired, and we must eat and rest before we may do more." She chirped, giving the call for her ikran, and Trudy followed her example. Both of the banshees must have been close, for they arrived in a flurry of wings less than a minute later, and the two friends were in the air within seconds.


	25. Apposition

**Apposition**

Trudy flew Nari'ong into the mining camp at Swotulu in formation with Marali. She almost fell off the ikran when it landed, shaking from exhaustion – or at least that's what she told herself it was. There were hundreds of Na'vi moving around in the half-dark under the light of Polyphemus, but somehow Norm spotted her and was by her side.

"Hey, babe," she said, throwing her arms around him, breathing in deeply and smelling his sweet scent. He smelt nothing like the tawtute – instead, he smelt like freshly washed laundry hung out to dry in the sun, full of light and hope.

Norm felt her trembling, and kissed the top of her head. Making a sudden decision, he scooped her up and carried her to his campfire, cradling her in his arms. She was too tired to make any protest, and when he laid her down she was already asleep. It was with concern that he saw tears trickling down her cheeks, and heard her whispering in her sleep – something about death, and burning, and pain.

He hesitated for a moment, and then ran in search of Mo'at. It took him the best part of half an hour to find her and bring her back to the campfire where his mate was sleeping. He explained his concern to the Tsahik of the Omaticaya, who frowned deeply at his words.

She took Trudy's right hand gently and studied it, listening carefully to her unconscious mutterings. After a time Mo'at told Norm, "Truti'tsakon should not be here, doing this. She is like atokirina, seed of the sacred tree – very pure spirit. Eywa meant her to bring life, not death, even to the tawtute. That was why she flew away from the destruction of Hometree and joined the Na'vi in the war against the evil tawtute, giving the Omaticaya the Toruk Makto, though it cost her all she knew. Each time she takes a soul, no matter how corrupt it may be, it is as though she drives the knife of grace into her own heart, and her soul sickens from the pain, and so she seeks to punish herself for the evil that she believes she does."

"What can I do?" pleaded Norm. "She believes she has to fight to protect the Na'vi."

Mo'at smiled at the worried young man, remembering another young Na'vi male worrying for his mate and first child when they fell sick, over twenty years ago. "Be yourself, Nor'man, and make her rest. There are others to carry this burden in the here and now. No-one – not Omaticaya, or Tipani, or Plains People, or even the Ikran People of the Eastern Sea, doubts the courage of Truti'tsakon, and none would fault her for not continuing."

Norm pondered what the Tsahik told him, when an irreverent thought struck him. Mo'at was telling him that he had chosen a saint for his mate. She had to be the lustiest and most irreverent person he had ever met – he could not think of anyone less like a saint than Trudy. But Mo'at was right – her every action was dedicated to doing right and preserving life.

"Why do you smile?" asked the Tsahik gently. She was often puzzled by this clumsy young man, and what drove him in his quest for knowledge and understanding.

"The tawtute believe that their deity blesses some few people – they are called saints in English –making them like the atokirina, like you say Truti'tsakon is," he started to explain. "But they renounce all pleasure and joy and dedicate their lives to the deity - not like Truti, who revels in lovemaking and life. She is not like tawtute saints."

The Tsahik snorted in disgust. "The tawtute are truly skxawng. Eywa granted the Na'vi the joy of tsahaylu and love so that we may worship life, and thus worship her. No wonder the tawtute are as they are – they have everything backwards."

She placed her hand on his arm, telling him, "I have Seen that your mate is yet to travel a long and difficult road, and her part is not done. Protect and keep her safe, Nor'man, for the road will cause her great pain."

He gave the only answer a true mate could. "I will do my best."

Mo'at rose from his side, and went to seek her daughter's mate. Jake'sully was surrounded with by the older warriors of many tribes, grouped around a 'map' that he said represented Eywa's embrace from Hell's Gate to Swotulu. She looked hard at it, pretending that she was on the back of an ikran looking down on the world, when suddenly she realised what he meant - each symbol on the 'map' meant something – a hill, a valley, or a stream, each placed the right distance apart, but smaller, as though she was viewing the world from far higher than any ikran that ever flew. The markings he made on the map showed where each group of the tawtute soldiers were. This must be how the tawtute fought their wars – with 'maps' and gunships and burning rocks and cold calculation. No wonder they were so terrible in their anger.

She had been shamed before her daughter – Ney'tiri had Seen Jake'sully before anyone else, even her, the Tsahik of the Omaticaya. Mo'at understood now why her daughter had chosen this man. He was strong and decisive, and a great warleader, but so gentle and kind, even to those who would be his enemies. Mo'at had only truly Seen him when he flew to the Tree of Souls mounted on a toruk, and even then she doubted what she saw.

There was no doubt now – he was olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya and Toruk Makto.

Jake saw that Ney'tiri's mother was waiting to talk to him. Quickly, he issued orders to the warriors around him, talking to them seriously, as first among equals. Many warriors would have longed for his sure way with words and ease in dealing with men, but none used it as well, she thought. The warriors around him nodded, and walked away on their business.

"I See you, Mo'at," he said. "What can I do?"

"It is Truti'tsakon," she said reluctantly. "She should not participate in the battle against the tawtute any further. It sickens her soul."

The mate of her daughter looked grave. "She should not have been fighting," he said. "Trudy is one of the few chopper pilots we have, and she is exhausted. We cannot afford to risk her in combat."

"She is very proud," said Mo'at. "She will want to continue."

Jake'sully muttered some tawtute words under his breath. Mo'at did not understand any of them, but they sounded like curse words. He finally said, "There are many other warriors who can kill tawtute soldiers, but they all must eat. I will tell Trudy that once she is rested, she is to hunt for the other warriors, and she is to hold herself ready to fly her chopper. She is a soldier, and understands the necessity to follow orders."

Mo'at said wryly, "Only when she agrees with them, like a dreamwalker I once knew."

Jake threw back his head and laughed.


	26. Passive Voice

**Passive Voice**

The mercenary was starting to think that the road may have been the better option.

By his best estimates by the end of the first day he had lost almost fifteen percent of his troops. One squad had disappeared entirely off the map after a garbled report of being attacked by a pack of wolf-like creatures. Viper-wolves someone had said they were called.

Others had lost men to plants or to swarms of insects. It was like the forest itself was rising up against them.

And then there were the Na'vi.

Not one of his troopers had seen one, or even heard one – at least the ones that were still alive. He could not speak for the dead. The only sign of the Na'vi that anyone ever saw was when one of their damn arrows came out of the forest to pin a man to a tree.

How could such fucking big '_people'_ move so damned stealthily? No human troops he had ever heard of could do what they were doing.

One of the squads was now being lead by a corporal. He had reported how he had woken up to find the men on either side of him knifed, while an arrow that he had snapped off from his sergeant's corpse was left next to him. The mercenary appreciated the grim humour – from a casual study of the few he had seen, there must have been days of work in crafting one of their arrows by hand. Obviously the corporal had seriously pissed off some Na'vi warrior by breaking his precious arrow. Never mind that he was only trying to prevent it from being reused on one of his men.

The poor bastard sounded as though he was scared shitless.

God knows that the mercenary wasn't feeling particularly courageous either.

It was all pretty moot. If the casualties continued to rack up at the current rate, he would be lucky to get one in ten of his soldiers to Swotulu. There was going to be no way he could maintain a permitter against the Na'vi Stinger missiles, not with those numbers. There was going to be no dustoff back into orbit – not for any of them.

If only he could find someone to surrender to.

There was only one problem – his orders precluded the possibility of surrender, and he had never disobeyed an order in his entire career.


	27. Diaeresis

**Diaeresis**

Trudy was relieved that Jake had bawled her out for going into combat, but she felt sorry for Beyda'amo and Marali. They had only tried to do the right thing by making sure that she didn't do anything stupid. And she had never really been in danger. The tawtute had only once shot in her general direction, after all.

When she tried to explain that she thought she was doing the right thing, and that she had been perfectly safe, for a moment she thought Jake was going to explode, as though someone had jammed a block of Semtex up his tight little blue ass. She could certainly see why Ney'tiri liked it – the ass, not the plastique.

Jake didn't explode, and the moment passed. Instead, the air around him chilled to a degree above absolute zero.

"Marine," he said in icy English. "How many chopper pilots are there on Pandora?"

Involuntarily she braced to attention and answered, "Three, sir."

"You are one of them, are you not?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Shit, she really was in deep trouble. Beyda'amo and Marali watched in slack-jawed amazement, while Mo'at was standing behind the Toruk Makto smiling a secret smile.

"Would you say that chopper pilots are essential to our military strategy, Chacon?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why the fuck did you take it into your tiny airedale mind to risk one third of our air resources on a non-essential mission?"

The shit was closing over her head. "It seemed like a good idea at the time, sir."

He nodded as though his belief that her brains had dribbled out of a hole in her skull had been correct. Trudy was right – the Corps had dipped out on a magnificent General Officer when they did not take Sully on as a shavetail.

"Well," he said calmly, "As the Na'vi don't do KP, it seems the best I can do for such a brainless skxawng is to assign her to the hunt, and keep the rest of these idiots fed. I think that should give you plenty of time to reflect on your stupidity, don't you, Chacon?"

"Yes, sir," she answered, feeling as though she had been bawled out by an expert.

"Dismissed," he said curtly.

Trudy snapped up a salute, and said, "Thank you, sir."

Jake just looked right through her at Beyda'amo and Marali. It looked like they were next on Jake's shit list. Trudy swallowed deeply, spun on her heels and marched away. She had not had an experience like that since she had been dragged before Captain's Mast on the _USS Iwo Jima_ for buzzing the golf course at Quantico when the Commandant of the Corps was playing his weekly eighteen holes.

As soon as Trudy was out of earshot, Mo'at said, "That was well-done, Jake'sully. She will stay out of the battle now, but still keep her honour."

Beyda'amo said admiringly, "How do you get a warrior to thank you for telling her she is a skxawng? It is a skill that I would like to possess."

Jake looked at him and burst out laughing. He waved a finger at the huge Na'vi warrior and said, "I had plenty of opportunity to see my mother demonstrate the art on me and my brother. If you wish, I would be happy to do likewise on yourself and your mate."

Marali said ruefully, "I think I would rather forgo the honour, Toruk Makto."

"It's time we all got some food," he said. "If there is anything left to eat."

When Trudy got back to the campfire she was feeling relieved. She really didn't want to go back out to hunt the humans, and was quite happy with Jake's decision – even if she thought she should have been with the other Na'vi warriors.

Norm was relieved when she told him that she wouldn't be going back out there. The geeky darling had been worrying so much about her she was happy that he could stop fretting for a little while. They even made love that morning, uniting in the bond of tsahaylu, easing the pain that she felt.

Trudy spent the next several days largely in her second-favourite place, flying with Nari'ong hunting yerik. The rest of the time she spent in her most favourite place. She still missed her best arrow though.


	28. Singular

**Singular**

The mercenary looked over his men. Twelve. That was all he had managed to get to Swotulu. None of them had eaten for at least three days, and they were all exhausted. A few of the men were sick as well – the growth of their beards was reducing the effectiveness of the exo-pack seal, and they were getting constant small doses of Pandoran atmosphere.

They were resting just inside the edge of the forest before they entered the mine site. A soldier, one of the five women to make it this far, asked him quietly, "We're not going home, are we?"

He read the embroidered name badge on her shirt front. "No, Jaeger, we're not going home." There was no point in bullshitting anyone. Not now.

The woman was too tired to make any response. She just returned to reassembling her weapon, which unlike her was absolutely spotless. Jaeger was good troop. All the ones that had made it this far were good troop. They had to be.

He looked around. The survivors were as ready as they were going to be. "It's time," he said, and got to his feet.

"Oorah," was the soft reply.

The soldiers advanced out into the grassland around the mine site in open order, like the professionals that they were. There was no sign of the indigenous anywhere, but he could feel them all around him.

A voice called out, "It's a long way from Parris Island, Gunny Boudreaux."

The soldiers stopped, three of the soldiers covering at the location of the voice, the rest covering the other approaches.

Boudreaux called out, "At ease." The soldiers all lowered their weapons, but they were tense. Very tense.

A Na'vi rose up from the grass, his face and body daubed in war paint, carrying no weapon other than a knife scabbarded on his chest. The first thought that crossed the mercenary's mind was, 'Fuck, he's big.'

"You're taking a risk, son," said Boudreaux.

The Na'vi chuckled softly. "I've got four snipers covering you right now. If I wanted you dead, you would be."

"Sully, isn't it?" asked Boudreaux. When the Na'vi nodded in confirmation, the gunnery sergeant said, "I remember you from boot. You were full of piss and vinegar then, and nothing much has changed. So what's the deal? If I surrender you will guarantee the lives of my men?"

Sully replied, "I'm afraid that is out of my hands." He pointed to the sky. "It depends on them up there."

"Hostages, huh," commented Boudreaux.

"You were set on exterminating us, Gunny," said Sully softly. "Project Thor." Boudreaux started at the name of the weapon the Captain had been planning to build. How the fuck had Sully known? Did the Na'vi have a source on the _White Sta_r? The huge Na'vi asked, "Would you do any different in my position?"

"No," said Boudreaux. He was so damned tired. "This is the best deal we can get?"

Sully showed his teeth, but he wasn't smiling. "You wouldn't like the other one, but some of my people would. They have lost many brothers and sisters to the humans, and they are angry."

"Ok, people," said Boudreaux. "You heard the man. Lose your weapons." The former marine placed his weapon on the ground, drew his combat knife and stabbed it into the ground. The Na'vi smiled sadly and shook his head, so Boudreaux asked him, "What have I done?"

Jake Sully answered, "Gunny, you do not See. You have just wounded our mother Eywa, like humans always do, without thought, or even asking for forgiveness for despoiling her body."

It was at that point that Boudreaux realised that Jake Sully was no longer human, and he began to fear for the lives of his people.

The mining camp was filled with Na'vi, towering above the captive humans. Sitting out in the open was a communications console.

Boudreaux said to Sully, "I'll do it, but don't expect too much. The captain is a damned cold fish."


	29. Definite Article

**Definite Article**

"There is an incoming message from the surface, sir," said the communications officer.

The atmosphere on the bridge of the _White Star_ had been chilly for the last week. Only fragmentary reports had been picked up from below, and no-one had a clear picture of what was happening to the ground pounders.

The Captain ordered, "Put it up on the main screen, Lieutenant."

The attractive communications officer complied with the blunt request, a model of military efficiency.

The image of the green and blue world below was replaced by the face of an exhausted soldier. Beneath his exo-pack his face was drawn and haggard, with deep black circles under his eyes. "Captain, Gunny Boudreaux here," said the soldier. "I have bad news."

"Go ahead, soldier," ordered the Captain.

"The Na'vi have defeated us, and are holding the survivors captive. They have asked me to tell you that if you do not comply with their demand for your surrender, they will kill us."

"How many of you have been captured?" asked the Captain.

"Thirteen."

There was a sharp intake of breath across the bridge crew on hearing the blunt answer. The savages had cut the mercenaries to pieces.

There was no expression in the Captain's reply, "I am afraid I cannot comply with your request, Gunny."

"I told them you would say that," said the gunnery sergeant, resigned to his fate. One of the savages stepped forward and held a bone knife to his throat.

"No!" shouted the communications officer, a pistol leaping into her hand. Before anyone on the bridge could move, she fired two shots into the chest of the Captain, killing him instantly. She grabbed the blood-stained shirt of the dead officer and hauled the corpse out of his command chair, turning around with a wild look in her eye. None of the bridge crew dared to gainsay her - not when she had a pistol in her hand, and had just demonstrated that she knew how to use it.

"This is Lieutenant Boudreaux," she announced. "The Captain is dead, and I have taken command of the _White Star_. The crew will abide by the terms of surrender, if the Na'vi will guarantee their lives."

Gunny Boudreaux said, "Hello, Marie."

The Na'vi had stepped back from the soldier, out of view of the camera. It seemed her desperate action had met with the approval of the blue monkeys, and the survivors on Pandora would live for a little longer.

The communications officer reached out to touch the console displaying the image of the exhausted soldier, and responded, "Daddy, I couldn't..."

"I know."


	30. Disjunct

**Disjunct**

Samson One-Six was the only chopper still in running order on Pandora – all the others were down with mechanical problems. Chief Ortiz had not yet come out of the tank, so maintenance had fallen further behind that Max had ever expected. That's why Trudy got stuck with ferrying the tawtute captives to the Well of Souls. Actually, everyone knew that she would gut any pilot daring to fly her bird, so the question of who was going to fly them never arose.

When the tawtute were told that they had to give up there humanity there was little response other than dumb acceptance, even from the crew of the _White Star_. There wasn't nearly enough human food left on Pandora to support the additional mouths ad infinitum, and Jake wasn't going to run the risk of shuttling supplies down from the starship. There would be too much reliance on captured personnel, so the only real option was to run the whole lot through the alien reconstruction machines, and hope that they could re-educate the humans into Na'vi.

It had been different with the humans who had remained after the _Venture Star_ left – they were committed to staying on Pandora. Jake mentioned that the whole idea made him feel as though he was running a gulag in twentieth century Siberia. He obviously felt uncomfortable about what he was doing. Ney'tiri had called him a skxawng again, scolding him that it was better to change people than to kill them – and starvation was a terrible way to die.

Trudy had told Norm that he had to stay behind on the captive transfer flights. She wasn't sure how long her bird could keep flying. The controls had felt a little mushy on the last couple of trips, so she wanted to make use of all the lift capability that she could. She had figured out she could do the lot with one less trip if she didn't take her lover as loadmaster, and she suspected that the humans were all too shocked to offer any resistance.

She was amused to find one of the surviving soldiers was still carrying her broken arrow. Apparently Marali had blabbed about the whole incident to everyone at Swotulu, so all the hunters had made sure that they did not kill him. Apparently there was some Na'vi tradition that by leaving a gift with an enemy, Trudy had marked him as hers to kill, and it was incredibly impolite to kill someone a friend had marked.

The soldier virtually jumped out of his skin when she asked for her arrow back, much to the amusement of the surrounding Na'vi. When he apologised to her for breaking it, she told him not to worry – carrying the broken arrow was probably the only thing that had kept him alive. And while the shaft was not repairable, the arrowhead was a very fine piece of obsidian that she had found and shaped herself, and of which she was particularly proud.

It was just as well that she had made Norm stay behind. Her instrument panel lit up like a Christmas tree when she was returning to Swotulu after dropping her final load of humans, and she began to look for a placed to set her bird down. She tried sending a Mayday message, but her comms were out, as well as a bunch of other systems.

"Come on, baby," she pleaded softly. "Don't let me down now."

She caught sight of a tiny clearing just as the turbines died, leaving her with no power. Somehow, Trudy managed to auto-rotate her bird down, narrowly missing a couple of huge trees, dropping Samson One-Six the last five feet to the ground without any aerodynamic aids at all. The impact jarred her teeth, but did not seem to have done any other damage.

Trudy was relieved that she would not have to explain to Chief Ortiz that she had smashed up his bird. All pilots know that a crew chief only ever loans a bird, and they had to return it without a scratch, otherwise there would be hell to pay. He was still going to gripe about having to go into the boonies to fix her up though. No doubt he was going to complain about being too damn big to work on the fucking piece of shit, and the loss of his poxy little fingers as well – not to mention that none of his crappy tools would fit his fucking hands.

She cut off all the switches and eased herself out of the cockpit, carefully manoeuvring her bow out the door after her. Trudy had never been in this part of the forest, but had managed to take a mental bearing as she went in, so she knew which way she had to travel to Swotulu. It was only about fifteen klicks or so. She should be able to be back there some time tonight.

There was something odd about this part of the forest. It was unusually quiet. Her ears flicked about, trying to pick up the normal subtle noises of the forest – cries of far-off viperwolves, the chattering of prolemurs, even the hum of insects – but they were all absent. Instead, there was something else. Something she couldn't quite hear. Before she knew it, she was moving in the direction of the sound that wasn't there. Perhaps it was the sound of one hand clapping, or the noise a falling tree makes when there is no-one to hear it.

It was only one hundred metres into the forest that she found a rocky knoll projecting out of a moss bed. Fortunately it wasn't the stinging kind of moss which she had encountered not long after she first woke as an Na'vi – her feet had itched for days after stepping on a small patch of the rotten stuff. Trudy was certain that Beyda'amo had allowed her to step on it to focus her attention on the lessons he was giving about plants – her attention had been drifting at the time, in awe of the beauty of the forest revealed to her Na'vi eyes. They showed so much more than human eyes.

The knoll was unusually smooth, almost as though it had been worked by tools, and the noise she couldn't hear was coming from it. Trudy reached out a hand to touch it.

That was a big mistake.


	31. Adjunct

**Adjunct**

The twenty Tipani warriors who had ensured that the tawtute did not cause any trouble at the Well of Souls had just flown in to Swotulu, Beyda'amo and Marali among them. Beyda'amo thought that Jake'sully was being over cautious – he could not imagine any number of unarmed tawtute giving Ableryder any difficulties – or armed tawtute for that matter.

Norm went to ask them where Trudy was, as there had been neither sight nor sound of Samson One-Six since it left with the last load of tawtute.

Beyda'amo frowned. "Truti'tsakon is not here? She left as soon as she delivered the last tawtute, long before we were finished with them."

His mate Marali added suggestively, "She was eager to return to you, Nor'man. Truti'tsakon talked of unfinished business."

"Shh, foolish woman," snapped Beyda'amo. "Nor'man is concerned for his mate." He frowned, remembering the flight back to Swotulu. "There was no sight or scent of fire, as made by a kunsip that falls from the sky, nor was there any break in the canopy. Maybe the kunsip broke – she rides it well, so perhaps she flew it down to roost beneath the trees with a torn wing."

"She could be lost," worried Norm.

Beyda'amo gave a single bark of ironic laughter. "Your mate is never lost, Nor'man, not even when she was new Na'vi. Truti'tsakon always knows the way."

Marali suggested tentatively, "What of the taboo place? We do not fly that way, and the winds would blow her in that direction, if she was not careful. It is close to Swotulu."

This talk of taboo places was starting to freak out Norm. "I have to go look for Trudy," he said, turning away from the Na'vi couple.

Beyda'amo grasped Norm's arm in an unbreakable grip. "No, Nor'man. You shall not go. It will soon be dark, and you are not taronyu, not wise to the ways of the forest. Truti'tsakon would never forgive me if I allowed you to go, and you were killed. I will tell Jake'sully, and we will begin search at sunrise."

His words were brutal but honest, and despite Norm wishing it was not so, Beyda'amo was right. His shoulders slumped in despair at his uselessness.

"Come with us to eat and rest, Nor'man," said Marali. "My mate can tell you stories of Truti'tsakon and the mistakes she made when he taught her to be Tipani."


	32. Allomorph

**Allomorph**

"Trudy, wake up," said a familiar voice. "It's time to get up."

"Mom, I don't want to go to school today," mumbled Trudy.

"Young lady, if you don't get up this instant..."

"Mom?" Trudy's eyes snapped open and she sat up. She was lying on the floor in a softly-lit empty room. "Is that you?"

The plump Hispanic woman standing over her shook her head sadly and said, "That is a difficult question to answer, my chica, but I do love you dearly, and I am so proud of you."

Trudy slowly got to her feet, noting that she was still Na'vi. "You died fifteen years ago," she accused. "Where am I, and who are you?"

"You are in the heart of Eywa," replied the ghost, for that was what Trudy decided she was. A very tall ghost, for it was only slightly shorter than Trudy was. "I am Eywa – in as much anyone can be called Eywa now."

"Why do you look like my Mom?" asked Trudy. "Is this place real? Are you real?"

"Questions, questions, always with the questions," said Eywa. "I thought you would have grown out of that phase by now. You haven't changed since you were five years old."

Trudy glared at the being wearing the image of her mother.

"Oh, very well," said Eywa in exasperation, sounding exactly like Trudy's mother. "What you see is a hologram based on your memories of your biological mother. I thought you would find it more reassuring than my original appearance. This place was my main research station - you've already seen one of my other installations, at the Well of Souls. And yes, this is a real place."

"But you're not real," complained Trudy, starting to feel her eyes tear up.

"Trudy Chacon," said the ghost sternly. "I raised you to be a strong woman, able to meet any challenge, and here you are about to dissolve into tears, just because I'm not here in the flesh. I won't have it."

"I'm sorry," said Trudy. She sniffled a little, and wiped her eyes with one hand.

"You came out without a handkerchief again," scolded the ghost. "What do I always tell you?"

Trudy was about to protest when she saw the corner of the ghost's mouth twitch and its eyes sparkle. It seemed that Eywa had a wicked sense of humour, just like her mother had. She straightened up proudly and answered back with the light of battle in her eyes, "Mom, I'm Na'vi now – a tsamsiyu. We don't use handkerchiefs – see, no pockets."

"Better," said Eywa in a satisfied voice, not bothering to correct Trudy's use of her name. "Now come with me."

A section of one wall slid smoothly aside, displaying a long featureless corridor. The ghost gestured to the Na'vi warrior to walk down the corridor, and then she started to talk.

"When you called me Mom," she said, "You weren't that wrong. I am the mother of all the Na'vi, including you, although I never was Na'vi, or for that matter, human. In many ways I'm not that different from your friend Grace Augustine."

"A little under four thousand years ago, before I died – yes, I'm dead – I was a member of the species that called itself the k!T'ng. We were a very long-lived species, and I was the leader of research team studying biological interfaces to information systems. The k!T'ng were very interested in Pandora due to the evolution of queues in megafauna, particularly the part they played in reproduction and the raising of young, when we stumbled across the existence of the global network between the trees."

"Through extensive testing we established that the network was largely used as a method of homeostasis, a positive feedback mechanism to govern smooth functioning of the biosphere, to enable the entire planetary environment to operate on a symbiotic rather than a competitive basis, but that it was not self-aware. Nothing like this had evolved on any of the planets we had discovered, so the whole development was tremendously exciting."

"The k!T'ng researchers, myself included, could see that this had enormous application for interpersonal communications – the ability to connect directly to another person's brain, or even to the brain of another species, and understand what they were thinking, would have revolutionised our society. But we needed to try it out on some suitable test subjects first – and the k!T'ng were proud, knowing without doubt that we were the masters of genetic science."

"We were aware that there was a species of primitive sentient tool-users on a nearby star-system, so in our god-like arrogance we swept up a tribe on an isolated island in the largest ocean – you would call it the Pacific – brought them to Pandora, and subjected them to genetic reconstruction based on prolemuris DNA to enable them to thrive here. You know this species as the Na'vi."

Trudy commented, "You make the k!T'ng sound very human."

Eywa smiled wryly. "All too human, I'm afraid, for all that we had almost nothing in common biologically."

"So what happened? Where are the k!T'ng now?" asked Trudy.

"You always wanted to run through to the end of the story," said Eywa. "I remember you read the last page of a book before you started the story, just to make sure you would like the ending."

Trudy laughed, and the ghost of Eywa laughed with her.

"As I was saying," said Eywa, "The changes we made to humans to make the Na'vi were wildly successful, turning a violent, war-like race into a largely peaceful society of hunter-gatherers. The sociological implications were enormous, and as I led the team that designed the modifications to produce the Na'vi brain, I volunteered to be among the first k!T'ng to undergo the genetic implantation of a queue."

"The k!T'ng were so very like humans," said Eywa. "Unbeknown to us on Pandora - we were a very isolated research station - the two largest k!T'ng factions were fighting a civil war across our stellar empire, and one side was losing. It used a biological weapon to fight back, but the weapon mutated into a virulent and incredibly lethal form, and the evil bastards who released it lost control. While I was in the tank being modified, Pandora was dusted with the weapon, and all the k!T'ng both here and on every planet we occupied died. We became extinct through our own stupidity."

The expression on Eywa's face was a strange mixture of anger, sadness and regret. "Before he died, a friend left me a message detailing what happened. The disease was still active and took hold almost instantly, and I realised I didn't have long to live. So I linked with the global network, and effectively downloaded myself before I followed him. That is how Pandora first became awake, a sentient planet."

"What about the disease?" asked Trudy.

Eywa replied, "It's still around. I believe humans call it the common cold." The ghost gestured at the wall, which slid open to reveal a mummified corpse seated on what looked like a throne. "That's me," she said.

Trudy walked into the room and circled cautiously around the mummy. It was as tall as a Na'vi, and vaguely humanoid, but the head was enormously elongated. She could see a queue protected by a bony carapace projecting from rear of the skull, and it had a whip-like tail curving down to the feet, ending in a savage looking bony club. The overall impression was of a powerful, fast and vicious predator.

"You looked like an alien from a classic twentieth century horror series," said Trudy. She was glad that Eywa had not used her original appearance – Trudy would have woken up screaming.

"Why, thank you, Trudy," answered Eywa. She obviously knew which films Trudy was referring to. "I was considered to be very attractive by males of my species, and had many opportunities to mate and lay egg clutches. Some of the modifications we made to the Na'vi were meant to make you more visually appealing to our species, such as the height, elongated skull, emaciated build, reduction in number of digits and the tail. We also wanted you to have a good chance against Pandoran predators, so we improved your physical capabilities substantially as well, but not too much as we didn't want you to become complacent, and there were limits to what we could do with the human Bauplan in any case. Still, I think you came out looking much more visually appealing than the original human stock. Then again, I'm biased."

The ghost appeared to be wandering off track, so Trudy interrupted, "That's all very interesting, Eywa, but that doesn't explain why I am here."

"Of course, dear. I have this terrible tendency to shoot off at tangents," apologised Eywa. "I was passionately involved in my work, and had a lot of affection for the Na'vi. Many of my colleagues mocked me for my attachment, treating them as lab rats rather than people, but I found I couldn't detach myself like that. My maternal instincts showing, I expect. So after I died, I was determined that the Na'vi would survive and prosper, unlike my own species, and I did everything I could to ensure that they did this in a sustainable manner."

"Then the humans arrived on Pandora," said Eywa. "It was a shock, for I had not thought that human civilisation would progress so fast. Humans were like the k!T'ng, but even more so, and I could not see how my children could survive against their greed and rapaciousness. I found it hard to understand what humans were like, how they felt and loved, as I had been used to interfacing directly with my children for thousands of years. But there were some that were susceptible to my influence, and I tried to make them fall in love with Pandora, as I had fallen in love. The first I managed to touch were Grace Augustine, René Harper and Cathy Ryder. Through them I tried to stop the humans peacefully, but it was so very hard, and the price was so high for all of them. So I decided that I would need a warrior to keep my children and my world safe."

Trudy said one name. "Jake Sully."

Eywa smiled. "Yes, Jake Sully. He reminded me so much of...someone special to me, before I died. So uncomplicated, so true and passionate in what he believed, so crazy brave. I had to see him through both human and Na'vi eyes to make sure – Cathy Ryder helped me there, but I was never really in doubt that he was the one. Even before he arrived on Pandora, I could feel his dreams through my link with his Avatar body."

As Trudy started to open her mouth, Eywa said, "You're about to tell me to hurry up and get to the point. I will, don't worry, my chica." The ghost took in a deep breath, or at least pretended to do so, and announced, "There was one human that I did not need to touch. She was already in love with Pandora before I ever heard her, and her spirit was both true and pure. You, Trudy Chacon. You were sent to save my children."


	33. Reflexion

**Reflexion**

The two Na'vi couples stood deep in the forest, looking at the pa'li tracks disappearing into the gloom. They could all feel a compulsion not to follow them, an aversion to this silent place. Eywa did not wish them to go any further. This place was taboo.

"I should have trussed him up when you told me Trudy was missing, Beyda'amo," said Jake. "He's going to get himself killed."

Ney'tiri said, "He is in the hands of Eywa now, my Jake. Nor'man loves Truti'tsakon, and you could not have stopped him from searching. Would you have taken any notice of others' words, if it was I that was absent?"

Jake smiled bitterly, and reached for his mate's hand. "No, my heart and light of my life. I would search to the ends of Eywa's embrace to find you."

Marali nudged Beyda'amo. "Why do you never say such things to me, as Jake'sully says to Ney'tiri? Words like those of the Toruk Makto would be very pleasant to hear, if you meant what you said."

"Alas," mourned Beyda'amo, "Eywa has not granted me the gift of words as she gave the Toruk Makto. Instead, I can only prove my love with the strength of my body and the boundless devotion of my spirit."

His mate tweaked Beyda'amo's tail playfully. "There is hope for you yet, my warrior," conceded Marali, causing all four Na'vi to chuckle, lightening their mood.

"I suppose all we can do is wait," mused Jake.

The four turned about to return to Swotulu, and Ney'tiri said, "I am sure we have not heard the last of Nor'man and Truti'tsakon. Their spirits are strong, and they are beloved of Eywa."

Jake replied, "I hope you're right."


	34. Protasis

**Protasis**

"But I'm just a pilot," protested Trudy to Eywa. "I'm no hero like Jake. No-one sent me! How could they – you are the deity!"

"I am no god," stated Eywa. "I'm just a glorified computer with backup copies of dead people." She frowned at the Na'vi woman, adding, "At least I don't think I'm a god. I've never been able to figure it out."

"No!" said Trudy, sitting down on the ground and clasping her knees to her chest. "I'm not special. And don't try that 'I look like your mother so you have to do what I tell you'. It's not going to work."

"My child, the fate of two races are at stake here," said Eywa quietly. "The Earth is dying. The humans will keep on coming and kill this world in an attempt to save Earth, but they will fail. Unless I do something – unless you do what I ask, Pandora will die. The Na'vi will die. Earth will die, and the humans will die as well."

The hologram of her mother slowly morphed into a female kl!T'ng, but it still spoke with her mother's voice. "The Na'vi and the humans will share the same fate as my race – extinction. Is this what you want to see?"

Eywa gestured towards a world with the familiar continents of Earth hanging in the middle of the room – the green and blue slowly disappearing, until there was nothing but a dull brown gray. Trudy had the sudden sensation that she was falling, until she was surrounded by the ruins of a city, the only moving thing the dust swirls kept moving by the endless hot wind, the solid acid clouds glowing in a dull yellow sky.

"No," she whispered, clutching her knees closer.

"Based on the data that Grace has given me, what you see is Earth in eighty years time. It is very close to a tipping point that will destroy planetary homeostasis like a runaway train, and once that happens nothing can stop the death of all life – nothing will survive, not even the human colonies on the Moon and Mars. Gaia is slipping away as we speak. We are out of time."

The scene changed subtly, but instead of the broken towers of the ruined city, the ruins that she saw were the blackened forests of Pandora.

"Life on Pandora will linger for a while, but even it will fall in time. The removal of unobtanium by the humans will disrupt the magnetic fields that make the global network possible and protect life from the radiation belts of Polyphemus. So the forests will die, as will I. And when the forests die, so will my children, the Na'vi."

Trudy asked in a tiny voice, "What can we do?"

"We are going to make the humans See," said Eywa. The k!T'ng female made a gesture, and the dead forest faded away, as did the room that she thought they were in. Trudy was in a vast enclosed space, and in the centre was a sleek streamlined shape.

"This is why I need a pilot," said Eywa. "Why I need you."

Fascinated in spite of herself, Trudy stood up and walked around the spacecraft. It looked nothing like the clumsy human starship that had carried her to Pandora in cryo-sleep – it was more like a fighter aircraft than anything else, right down to the single seat cockpit at the nose of the sleek shape.

"This was the objective of the k!T'ng project on Pandora – a jump ship linked directly with its pilot, like an ikran linked with her rider, capable of flying through the wormhole network between the stars. Powered by zero-point energy, it is not constrained by the need to carry huge amounts of reaction mass to travel into space. For it to fly, I need a pilot who always knows where she is, a pilot who never gets lost."

There were two objects slung underneath the short, stubby wings that could only serve one purpose – bombs.

"This is a military bird," stated Trudy, running a hand along the smooth casing of one of the bombs.

Eywa said, "Like the humans, the k!T'ng were not a peaceful race. The military funded our project in biological interfacing so they could get a pilot with the capability to link with her ship. Computers could not intuit the flight-path to safely traverse the wormholes, only a sentient being had that capability – but physical reaction speeds were too slow. Every attempt the military made to fly this bird ended with a dead pilot, drifting through the depths of interstellar space. We needed a pilot that could fly her ship with the speed of thought itself."

Trudy's soul lusted for this spacecraft like she had lusted to fly an ikran. She wanted this like nothing else she had ever seen.

"The payload is a biological weapon," said Eywa. "Spores of Pandoran plant life adapted to Earth conditions, to green it again, and a virus – a virus that will change humans so they may See. I have been developing this weapon since the humans first came to Pandora. Your mission is to fly the jump ship to Earth, and release the weapon into the atmosphere."

"Will it kill many people?" asked Trudy. Her soul was the battleground between the desire to fly this spacecraft, and revulsion against using it as a weapon. She did not know what to do.

Eywa's answer was brutal. "I cannot deny it. People will die as a result of infection by the virus, but less than will die with the end of life on Earth. I seek to preserve Life, to preserve the Balance, not to protect individual lives."

Trudy whispered, "To save the village we had to destroy it." She shivered at the thought of what Eywa wanted her to do. "I don't know if I can do this."

"If you do not, there is no-one else," said Eywa.


	35. Apodosis

**Apodosis**

Norm dismounted from the direhorse in a smooth and easy action, not even thinking about the grace of his movement. An outside observer would have taken him for a native-born Na'vi for his ease with the riding beast.

This part of the forest gave him the heebie-jeebies, the absolute silence unsettling both him and his mount. He caressed the flank of the direhorse as he broke tsahaylu, trying to settle the nervous horse. Perhaps there was something in what Beyda'amo had told him about the taboo area.

He turned away and studied the chopper - Samson One-Six - it was Trudy's bird alright. The fuselage was smeared with greenery and it was leaning drunkenly to one side in a tiny clearing, but it appeared to be intact. How the hell Trudy had managed to set it down without wrecking it he had no idea - there was almost no room between the two massive trees bounding the space. He leant into the cockpit – it was empty, and all the switches were set to power-down the bird. Trudy had shown him how to fly the bird when he was still human, before he had thought she was dead, and he remembered enough to know that she had followed her obsessive need for perfection in the way she flew.

She was still alive – not only that, but she had taken her bow as well.

While he had his head inside the chopper, Norm heard the drumming of hoof-beats fade away into the distance. It looked like he was going to be walking from now on.

Just as well he had got Jake to teach him how to read a trail – Trudy left almost no sign of her passing, only the faintest bruising of the ground cover. If he had waited another day all trace would have disappeared. The trail wasn't long - it ended at a rocky outcrop - and there was an artificial opening carved out of the rock.

Norm unslung his assault rifle, took a deep breath, and started down the curving passageway.


	36. Active Voice

**Active Voice**

Trudy was staring at Eywa, when she heard a voice call out from behind her.

"Trudy, move away from the...thing," said Norm coldly.

She had never heard her mate use a voice that was so threatening. Trudy spun around and saw him pointing a huge assault rifle at Eywa. "No!" she shouted, waving her arms. "Don't shoot. This is Eywa. She's not real – she's a hologram."

"Dr Spellman, I presume," said Eywa, tilting her alien head to one side. "I admire your work, especially your paper on the role of pseudo-algae in biological signal propagation between Pandoran xenocotyledons. I thought your conclusions were particularly insightful."

"How?" said Norm, slowly lowering his weapon. His face wore a strange expression, a mix of puzzlement and caution.

Eywa laughed. "I'm afraid I have a backdoor into the Hell's Gate network. The protocol conversion was tricky, and I found overcoming the security protocols and encryption was quite tiresome, but once I obtained superuser access there was some very interesting material to absorb. I do have to say I found Grace Augustine's work fascinating. Some of the approaches she took to analysing my signal traffic I had never considered, and she and I have had many interesting discussions since."

Norm said excitedly, "Something that has been puzzling me is the method used to filter signal noise from adjacent nodules. I could see that there was some mechanism that was suppressing harmonics but I couldn't determine the method, at least not from a preliminary analysis."

By now Norm's gun had been placed carelessly on the floor, and his arms were waving about like the sails on a windmill. What followed was a furious conversation between Eywa and Norm of which Trudy was lucky to understand one word in ten – and those words tended to be words like 'a', 'the' and 'and'. She understood now why she had detected a little sadness in Norm when they had made tsahaylu – she could see that he had been missing the intellectual cut and thrust of his human profession – and why he was still mourning Grace's death.

Trudy carefully picked up his gun and clicked on the safety, before replacing it on the floor. She coughed significantly, and said, "I'm sure this is all fascinating to you both, but we were discussing some life and death matters."

Something in the way Eywa moved her hands indicated that she was slightly discomforted. "I'm sorry, my chica. I did tell you I got distracted easily, especially if it is in my area of interest."

"Norm," said Trudy, "Eywa said that both Earth and Pandora will die if I won't do as she asks, but if I do many people will die anyway."

"Can I see your evidence?" asked Norm.

Eywa waved an arm and masses of equations appeared to float in mid air. An unintelligible conversation ensued, leaving Trudy nervously pacing up and down for what seemed like hours, but was probably no more than thirty minutes. Eventually Norm said, "I can't fault her logic, Trudy. Not to do something will result in the death of both Pandora and Earth. If you can't do it for the People, or even for us, you should do it for our child. I think she deserves a chance at a full life."

"What did you say?" Trudy couldn't quite believe what Norm had said.

Her mate suddenly looked uncomfortable. "You're pregnant," he blurted out. "Your freckles changed colour a couple of days ago – it's the first sign of Na'vi pregnancy. I thought you knew, and just didn't want to talk about it."

"I'm going to have a baby?" she said weakly.

"No," said Norm. "We're going to have a daughter."

"How?" she whispered.

Despite her alien appearance, somehow Eywa managed to smirk as she said, "It tends to happen if you have wild, passionate sex with your mate."

Trudy sprang at Norm, knocking him to the ground. Straddling his torso, she started to bang his head against the ground, snarling, "Why. Didn't. You. Tell. Me. You. Bastard."

In self-defence, Norm grabbed the sides of her head with his large hands, and gazed into her golden eyes. He said quietly but firmly, "Trudy, I love you, and I am very proud that you are bearing the token of our love. Now get off me, unless you want me to make love to you right now, in front of Eywa."

Trudy sprang into the air as though she had been scalded. "You," she said angrily, accusing Eywa, jabbing her index finger at the hologram. "You did this. You knew."

"Of course I knew," admitted Eywa. "I didn't say anything because I didn't want to use your pregnancy to manipulate you into doing what I want, if I could avoid it. But you should be happy. I want you to be happy, both of you. You are happy, aren't you?"

At Eywa's question Trudy stopped. "I am happy," she said slowly, as though she wasn't really sure she truly believed it, a whole range of emotions washing over her. She felt the imperatives of her body, and realised she no longer had a choice. "I don't have any option, do I?"

Eywa shook her head sadly. "Now you know how I feel. My children the Na'vi are threatened with extinction, and I would do anything to save them, just as you would do anything to protect your child."


	37. Hyperbole

**Hyperbole**

Trudy cautiously lowered her body into the seat. It was quite disturbing, sitting in the cockpit of a bird that had no instrument panel or controls. Her hands wanted to feel the comforting feel of a joystick, of the solid reassurance of the throttle knobs ready to thrust the spacecraft forward, but there was nothing there other than the seat.

If she was going to do this, she had to do it now.

She took her queue and linked it with the spacecraft. Her breath rushed out of her lungs – it was like plunging into a mountain stream, the rush of cold machine around her consciousness, and then she was suddenly aware - suddenly aware of everything around her.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Bright thoughts not her own insinuated themselves into her brain.

"Eywa?" queried Trudy, speaking aloud as the canopy lowered smoothly over the cockpit. "Is that you?"

"Yes and no. I'm a copy of a small part of Eywa. She thought you could do with a little guidance with the spacecraft – you don't seem the type to read the manual."

"Bird," corrected Trudy. "It's a bird, not a spacecraft, or a ship, or anything else. Remember it, bitch." Trudy was not happy about being manipulated into being Eywa's tool, and let her irritation be known to the artificial intelligence – who, she was sure, was in constant communication with Eywa.

"My, my, you are a little touchy," said the spacecraft rather waspily. "It must be hormones. Pregnancy often does that."

"Is Norm clear?" she asked testily, wondering what kind of jet-wash this thing produced, not wanting to blow her mate ass over tit. It seemed that she had correctly identified the nature of the AI. Nari'ong, for all his savagery, had a much nicer personailty than this jumped-up accountancy program. It did seem, however, that the AI was good at its job. It had opened the doors covering the chamber holding the bird, and she could see the pale blue Pandoran sky above.

"Yes, oh mighty Tipani warrior," said the Bitch, its mental voice dripping with sarcasm. That was what Trudy decided her name was. It looked like their relationship was off to a flying start, so to speak. "What are you waiting for?" it asked. "A green light?"

The Bitch was right. What was she waiting for?

"Fly."


	38. Colligation

**Colligation**

'Boom...'

Jake Sully's head swivelled towards the sky, seeking what had to be a high speed aircraft breaking the sound barrier. Nothing else sounded quite like it. His eyes caught the glint of something metallic reflecting the sun high in the sky, leaving a contrail behind it to mark its passage.

"Look!" said Ney'tiri, pointing up into the sky. "Is it another Val'kyr'ie? I thought you said the ship between stars only carried two."

"No," said Jake. The missile teams had destroyed one, and the other was on the ground, only a few hundred metres away. "It's climbing, and climbing damn fast, so it can't be a shuttle. It is something else."

They watched it climb until it could be seen no more, dwindling into the distance.

"I wonder who pilots it," marvelled Ney'tiri. "It would be very fine to fly so high, higher than an ikran."

Jake said nothing. He had his suspicions.

It was after sunset when Norm trudged back into the mining camp at Swotulu, an assault rifle slung loosely from one shoulder, the lines of exhaustion and worry graven deep on his face.

"Did you find Trudy?" asked Jake.

"Yes," said his friend, turning his head towards the stars. "Yes, I did."

Somehow Jake knew not to ask any more questions. Norm was not going to give him any answers.


	39. Meiosis

**Meiosis**

"Woo-hoo!" shrieked Trudy. The acceleration of the Bitch was incredible as it rocketed almost vertically into the sky, jamming her back into the seat. "This is some ride!"

The Bitch said drily, "I take it you approve of my atmospheric performance characteristics."

"Shit, yeah!" exclaimed Trudy. The only thing comparable she had experienced was when a fighter jock had taken her up for a clandestine suborbital ride in an F-87 strike fighter, hoping to get her into bed. It was a pity he had been such an asshole, because he was a mighty fine pilot – otherwise he might have got lucky. But this baby could fly rings around an F-87, and she bet she could wax the tail of any hotshot fighter pilot who dared go up against her. Already the sky had faded out to black, and the curve of the horizon was clearly visible. She flipped the bird over so she could look up – or was it down – at her adopted world. She had never seen Pandora from orbit – she had been hustled on to the Valkyrie shuttle without getting a chance to do the tourist thing, and the Valkyrie cargo bay was rather short on windows. There was no doubt, though – Pandora was a stunningly beautiful world.

Trudy idly wondered how fast she was flying, when suddenly a mass of readouts flicked into existence in her visual field. She swivelled her head, but the readouts stayed steady against the shifting background of the planetary surface. Knowledge sprang into her head as to what each of the readouts indicated – this was much better than wading through endless pages of dry-as-dust technical manuals. Perhaps the Bitch had some use after all.

The atmospheric buffeting had faded away, and the Bitch announced, "We have achieved Pandoran orbit. There will be a slight pause while we undergo a preliminary systems check prior to engaging interplanetary drive."

"Where was the_ ISV White Star_?" thought Trudy. Almost before she had finished the thought, a 3d projection of Pandora popped up, showing her current orbit and position contrasted with that of the human starship. It seemed she wasn't going to get an opportunity to observe it – the _White Star_ was on the other side of the planet. Just for contrast, all the RDA satellites still in orbit were shown as well. This really was some bird.

As she was having that thought, space seemed to twist and distort, tearing at her gut for a few seconds before normality resumed. It seemed the interplanetary drive had been engaged. Polyphemus and its many moon, including Pandora, seemed to visibly shrink down to a point, visibly turning red. The closest impression she had was like watching the bottom inch or two of water drain out of her kitchen sink. There was no apparent acceleration – just an impression that space was flowing past her incredibly quickly. By the amount of red-shift of the planets behind her, the Bitch must have instantaneously achieved a speed that was a respectable fraction of the speed of light.

"0.6c, actually," said the Bitch. "Any faster this deep in the heliosphere I have too much trouble with shielding, but it also means that we don't have too many problems with time dilation."

"Isn't this type of thing against the laws of thermodynamics or conservation of energy or something?" asked Trudy.

"It might seem so," said the Bitch. "However, the drive works by directly distorting the local space-time fabric through oscillation of a point gravity source..."

Trudy tuned out as the Bitch plunged into full-blown lecture mode. She wasn't really interested in the details, just the effects, and anyway Trudy had the distinct idea that the AI knew precisely that technical guff bored her. Even the mental voice it was using sounded like her eighth-grade science teacher, just droning on and on about stuff she had absolutely no interest in. It was just trying to establish that it was far smarter than Trudy was.

While it was embarked on its monologue, Trudy removed her hands from the armrests and placed them over her pelvic area, trying to feel the new life within her womb. She couldn't feel it, but purely having the knowledge that she was carrying a child changed everything. Norm had not wanted her to go, and neither had Trudy herself, but there was no one else to act. So to protect her unborn child, she had to place both it and herself in danger.

She was lost in a reverie when a question shot into her forebrain. "Did you say 'point gravity source', Bitch?"

"Why, yes, o great and all-knowing one," replied the Bitch.

"Do you mean a black hole?" demanded Trudy. "There is a black hole on this bird?"

"No," said the Bitch, causing Trudy to relax. She hadn't paid much attention in physics classes, but she remembered enough that black holes swallowed everything in their path. She didn't want to be in the same solar system with one, let alone a couple of metres away. "There are two point gravity sources, or as the humans would have it 'black holes', on this bird, as you most quaintly put it. If you had bothered to listen to what I was saying, you would have immediately grasped the fundamentals of the drive system – particularly the function of the point gravity sources."

"Holy shit," whispered Trudy, her eyes opening wide and her ears pricking forward. Eywa did not fuck around.

"It's perfectly safe," reassured the Bitch. "As long as the containment field holds, that is. It's been running perfectly for the last four thousand years, after all, with hardly a blip - though it was a shame about the outermost moon."

"Oh," said Trudy rather weakly.

"Yes, the ring that formed from the debris was most attractive, even if it only lasted for a couple of decades before tidal forces broke it up."

Trudy was glad that the k!T'ng were no longer around. She had garnered the feeling that they played pretty rough, and neither the humans nor the Na'vi would have come off particularly well in comparison.

"What happens next?"

"The closest jump point is in an area of gravitational disturbance outside the heliosphere, in the bow-shock zone ahead of Alpha Centauri A. It will take us about a week to get there. Hmm...you're going to be bored, and no doubt start complaining, so I better put you to sleep..."

"Good, you're awake," said the Bitch. "We're here."

"Gaaa," moaned Trudy. She felt as though she had been stomped on by a hammerhead titanothere. She could feel the emptiness and chill of interstellar space around the ship, even before she opened her eyes – except for there. Directly in front of her, there was – nothing? A seething, boiling nothing, twisting and surging with immense energies. It was wrong for her to see this nothing, so very, very wrong.

"What do I do now, Bitch?" demanded Trudy. She was in way over her head.

The Bitch gave a mental sigh, almost making Trudy laugh – she had the distinct mental impression that the Bitch had flung a despairing wrist across her non-existent forehead, like some Southern Belle in a romance novel. Eventually the Bitch said, "See the flashing symbol in your view field?"

Trudy nodded.

"That's where we are. Earth is over here." Another symbol strobed, impossibly far away. "Fix those points in your head. When we enter the jump point, you will have to guide the 'bird' to that point and exit through Earth's jump point."

"What about navigation inside jump space?" Trudy asked.

The answer was pretty much as she expected. Why else would she be here? The Bitch told her in succinct words it was all going to be up to her.

Trudy swallowed nervously, begged her unborn daughter for forgiveness, and told the Bitch "Go."

The bird accelerated towards the jump point, and plunged in.

Immediately she faced an assault on her senses, a swirling chaos of alien impressions – Trudy could taste the colour yellow, and hear chicken soup – not to mention feel the brilliant abrasion on her skin of a chorus of trumpets. Synaesthesia, she thought. Jump space was so alien her brain could not interpret it correctly.

Trudy shut it all out of her mind, closed her eyes and just imagined herself sitting in Samson One-Six, using the controls to guide her to her destination. The bird was constantly being buffeted and shaken by the convulsions of this alien place, but she ignored it all, every mad gyration that space and time took, treating it all as though she was flying through a tropical cyclone, using the force of the storm to guide her to her destination. "Shut the fucking instruments off," she shrieked at the Bitch – the mad flashing and warnings of the instrument readings in her visual field were just distractions from her purpose. They abruptly disappeared.

"Stick and pedals and collective and throttle, stick and pedals and collective and throttle," she chanted to herself like a mantra, her balance spinning like a top in this alien place – but she knew where she wanted to go – her only focus her destination.

"Out!" she screamed, after endless years of fighting the bird to the destination, or it might have only been a few seconds – she couldn't tell. The Bitch did something that tore at the fabric of the universe, removing them from the agony of jump space.

The bird floated peacefully in emptiness.


	40. Gerund

**Gerund**

Trudy was bathed in sweat and shaking with exhaustion. "Where are we?" she asked.

Thirty seconds passed without any response from the Bitch, and Trudy began to worry, when the AI told her, "It's not possible."

"What's not possible?"

"You're not supposed to be able to exit jump-space except at a jump point," said the Bitch.

Trudy was starting to get angry. "I want to know where we are, not that we shouldn't be here, so where the fuck are we?"

"In low Earth orbit," said the Bitch. She rolled the spacecraft 180 degrees, stopping it as the boot of Italy emerged through cloud cover beneath them.

"Who says women always get lost?" cried Trudy triumphantly. "Let's crash this party, dump the surprise package and scoot."

The Bitch slowed and fell towards the Earth, with no visible rocket exhaust or flare of engines, the interplanetary drive killing its velocity relative to the Earth's surface instantly. The thin atmosphere glowed in a plasma ahead of the bird, as numbers on the altimeter in Trudy's eyes flicked rapidly downwards.

"Ten thousand metres," said Trudy, "That's when we release the payload, right?" The skies were crowded that low.

"To achieve optimal dispersion of the payload," responded the Bitch, "We must fly over a large arc of the Earth's surface, as much as we can. I would caution you, though – that low we are restricted to performance comparable to pure atmospheric craft, otherwise atmospheric friction will damage the outer skin, and we must rely on aerodynamic controls for course correction. Additionally, damping of acceleration effects are not made, as this is not possible in atmosphere."

"Got it," acknowledged Trudy. Back to stick and rudder stuff – not that she had ever flown a high performance atmospheric bird when she was an Earthling.

The sky faded from inky black to a muddy blue, a pale imitation of the Pandoran skies Trudy was accustomed to. It was strange, she had thought the sky was brighter than that, as bird pulled out of its dive, crushing her down into her seat.

"Deploy the probe," she thought with a giggle. Perhaps she should land this baby somewhere isolated, and have some harmless fun at the expense of the yokels – just like in those crazy twentieth century alien films.

A fine mist started to spray behind the bird, the payload mixing with the polluted atmosphere of Earth., as the Bitch cruised along at just over Mach 2.

There was something up ahead – a civilian airliner, heading straight for them. "What's our radar profile like?" she asked. "Are we stealthy?"

"No," said the Bitch. "The design imperatives for jump-point traversal were contrary to production of a stealthy airframe. Our outer skin has been painted by a number of radar and lidar sources."

Trudy rolled the bird slightly to the right, missing the huge airline by no more than about fifty metres. She gained a fleeting impression of two horrified faces in its cockpit windows as she shot past.

"We'll have some company soon, then," she said.

She was right. Fifteen minutes later, two shapes rose up from below and formated on the Bitch.= - one on her left wingtip, the other directly behind her. They were nice looking machines – Eurofighter Tempests, if she was not mistaken. The one behind her had her all locked up with a firing solution. These guys weren't playing – and her impression of their intent was immediately confirmed.

"Unidentified aircraft, you have violated the airspace of the European Union," said the pilot of the Tempest on her wingtip. He spoke with a rather sexy German accent. "Identify yourself, reduce speed and land at Ramstein AFB. If you do not comply within thirty seconds, we will take hostile action."

She thought at the Bitch, "Can we shoot them down?"

A targeting solution instantly appeared in her visual field. Trudy blinked in surprise, and two balls of plasma shot out of the bird. The Tempest behind her was instantly turned into a cloud of expanding debris, while the tail of the bird on her wingtip was suddenly vaporised. Trudy was a little surprised at the speed with which the Bitch acted - she wasn't really sure that she gave the order to fire.

The German guy had good reflexes – he yanked the golden handle, his ejection seat immediately deploying, smashing through the canopy. Trudy watched him separate from his seat, and his chute opened cleanly. It was a shame about the poor bastard in the rear plane.

No more aircraft tried to close with the Bitch. Instead, they just stood off beyond the horizon, lobbing air-to-air missiles at them – which the Bitch promptly shot down. All too soon, these were joined by missiles climbing up from the surface, while the Bitch just continued to fly a steady course.

It was almost boring, thought Trudy, watching deadly missiles being turned into expensive fireworks.

The bird shuddered slightly, and purple warning signals flashed in Trudy's visual field. "We have taken damage," said the Bitch, as a large explosion bloomed on the horizon.

"What the fuck happened?" demanded Trudy.

"We were hit by a particle beam," replied the AI. "I have destroyed the source – an airborne vehicle with a fusion power plant."

"Can we continue the mission?"

"Yes. I am designating all airborne targets within line of sight for immediate destruction. Based on my projections, maximum dispersal of the payload will be achieved within fifteen minutes.

There were a few more distant explosions – Trudy hoped none of them were civilian airliners – and then the skies were clear.

"Payload fully deployed," said the Bitch, and the bird started to soar back towards space.

"Tally ho," cried Trudy as the sky turned back to black. "Set course for Earth's jump point. I want to go home."

The Bitch said, "I'm afraid we have lost jump capability, Trudy." She sounded regretful. "The damage I sustained from the particle beam would prevent us from surviving a jump."

A lump appeared in Trudy's throat. Was she never going to see Pandora again – see Norm again? What about her child?

"Can we make Pandora in normal space?" she asked. "You could knock me out, put me in cryo, like you did on the transit to the jump point."

"I can make the journey," said the Bitch, "But I am not sure you and your child will survive. I was not designed to support a pilot in suspended animation for such a lengthy period. The flight would take five years."

Trudy swallowed deeply. The lump in her throat was about the size of the Brooklyn Bridge. "Ok," she said. She already knew the answer to the question that she was about to ask, but she asked it anyway. "What about staying on Earth?"

The answer was blunt. "You would both die within three weeks from lack of essential amino acids, unless you surrendered to persons with the capability to maintain a Pandoran biosphere on Earth."

"Ok, then," she replied eventually. That meant the RDA. There was no way she was going to expose her child to those ruthless bastards. She would rather die. "Make course for Alpha Centauri A."

"Yes, Trudy," said the Bitch.

There were a few moments of silence, until Trudy said, "If I don't survive, could you..."

"Yes, Trudy," repeated the Bitch. "I will tell Norm that you love him." The AI activated the life suspension system, and Trudy knew no more.

The k!T'ng spacecraft accelerated out of Earth orbit, heading unerringly for its destination, while alien spores slowly drifted through Earth's atmosphere, slowly enveloping the whole globe in an inexorable mist.


	41. Assimilation

**Assimilation**

The first person to notice anything different was an ecologist studying revegetation of the Polish coalfields, about a month after reports of a mysterious UFO was seen over Eastern Europe.

He bent down against the polluted earth, studying a verdant green plant that had spread flat over some heavily polluted ground. "This looks odd," he murmured to himself. "I haven't seen one of these before." The ecologist touched the main stem of the plant, and yelled in pain, snatching his hand away.

"Shit," he swore, studying the welt across his fingers. "That fucking hurt."

He had only felt pain like that once, when he had been on holiday on the last remnants of the Great Barrier Reef, in northern Australia. He had been stung by a box jellyfish, one of the most poisonous creatures on Earth – and it had felt almost exactly like this.

The ecologist pulled on some gloves, readied a sample bottle and carefully snipped away a small runner, and took it away to study at his lab. It was with increasing excitement that he realised that what he had was an entirely new species – no, genus – of plant, one that had never been seen orrecorded on Earth before. He was going to be famous.

He was right. The plant was not in any database on Earth vegetation.

He could have known where his discovery had come from, if he had been an RDA employee. But he wasn't, so no-one realised what was happening – data on Pandoran botany was RDA commercial data, and was jealously guarded. It was worth a lot of money.

A few weeks before, a particularly virulent form of influenza had broken out - an entirely new strain of influenza. The epidemiologists at the CDC and equivalent bodies had not been able to isolate a Case Zero, or the primary animal vector – it had appeared simultaneously across a wide area of Eurasia, spreading across the rest of the world within little more than a week. Fortunately, it was not a very lethal strain, with deaths only registering in the low hundreds across the world. It was a particularly persistent little beggar though – it spread via airborne transmission, through the coughs and sneezes of every infected man, woman and child. The team of researchers examining it were thankful that it didn't seem to be crossing with other more lethal forms of influenza – the death toll would have been horrific. As it was, the infection rate was as close to 100% as made no difference.

One thing that was odd about the strain was that it carried a very heavy RNA payload. It shouldn't have been able to develop that kind of payload, thought the team – it didn't seem natural. And they were right – but no-one pursued that line of inquiry.

The media still made a huge noise about the new strain, driving a panic that hundreds of thousands could die, and the various national governments were failing their citizens by starving the medical profession of budgets. Several national governments lost no-confidence resolutions, and there were a rash of early elections.

The next indication that something was changing was on the stock market, but no-one understood what the sign meant. Companies dealing in clothing saw their business booming, and their stock prices reflected the pickup in sales, while dieting companies seemed to be in a terminal slump – many were going bankrupt through loss of their core markets. Stock analysts put this down as a result of the recent influenza outbreak – and they were right, but not for the reasons that they thought.

What made people sit up and really take notice was the strange case of Katrina Zdanowski, a pleasant young woman residing in Krakow.

Katrina was visiting her favourite beauty salon. Her manicurist exclaimed, "Katrina, you look fabulous! Have you lost weight?"

The young woman blushed happily. "Not really," she said. "I think I'm having a late growth spurt. I've grown five inches taller in the last month, but even better – I've gone down four dress sizes." She had been teased all through high school for being overweight, but now she looked more like a supermodel than one of the plump girls.

The manicurist looked at her enviously, but thought to herself that Katrina should get out in the sun more often. Her skin, always pale, had a distinct bluish tinge now. But it was not good customer relations to tell her clients negative messages about their appearance. So the two young women chatted about fashion, the last episode of Polish Idol, and an ever favourite topic – boys.

Katrina wasn't just taller, her fingers were longer as well, thought the manicurist, and her previously dull brown hair had reddish tints in it. It wasn't fair, thought the manicurist as she buffed the nail on Katrina's left little finger. Suddenly, the manicurist screamed in horror, and leapt up backwards, knocking her chair over.

"What's wrong?" asked Katrina, puzzled at the strange reaction.

Wordlessly, the manicurist pointed a shaking hand. Katrina's little finger, and the side of her left hand, had just peeled off, leaving fresh, new skin – pale blue skin. The discarded body part lay on the small work table, looking like a macabre novelty from a joke shop.

"Oh," said Katrina faintly. Her little fingers had been feeling numb for about a week, but she thought it had been a pinched nerve, or growing pains, or something. It was strange, though – her left hand felt normal, totally normal. She studied her right hand, grasped the little finger, and pulled it off as well – it felt just like peeling scabs off her knees when she was a child.

The young Polish woman looked up at the manicurist, who saw that Katrina's eyes were enormous in her face, and they weren't a muddy brown any longer, but gold.

"Y-you're an alien," she stammered. "You're one of th-them."

Katrina hissed at the manicurist, baring her teeth, showing a pair of distinctly longer canine teeth. "Don't be stupid, Ana," she snarled. "I went to school with your little sister."

"Get out! Get out!" screamed Ana.

She stormed out of the salon, into the crowds packing the mall. She was hungry, and her feet hurt – her shoes were so damned tight. Katrina went to the food court, and ordered five burgers. She had to eat something, otherwise she felt she would faint from hunger. While she was stuffing her face, she kicked off her shoes, not noticing that two of her toes were missing.

That was when the police came, and took her into custody for being a danger to public health.

But it was too late to hush up – at least a dozen people captured her arrest and detention on their cells, and the news spread around the world in less than a minute that an attractive Polish girl was turning blue and growing in height while people were watching.

Within days, millions of people were displaying the same symptoms. Riots broke out, as the transformations were denounced by religious fundamentalists as harbingers of evil, as the minions of the Anti-Christ, or spawn of Iblis. Thousands were killed in the unrest, cities and towns burned, and virtually every nation declared martial law – except for India. There, the bluing of the population was treated as a sign of the return of the Avatars of the Gods – but peace was not to last long. Pakistan denounced the blue plague as a curse sent by the Hindu unbelievers, and launched the long awaited war on India. Almost a billion people died in the subsequent nuclear exchange, and the world watched in horror at the destruction.

In the RDA boardroom, the ten board members met in emergency session. All of them were showing signs of infection of the blue plague.

Smith, the CEO of the Research division said, "We've studied Case Zero. I think we can safely shut down the Avatar program now – she's turned into full-blooded Na'vi. We're all going to become Na'vi - at least the ones that survive."

The Chairman asked, "How did this happen?"

"The false flu," said Smith. "It was loaded with retroviruses designed to transform humans into Na'vi." He smiled thinly, adding, "I suspect the Na'vi got tired of us, or may be their deity did."

"Can we reverse it?" demanded Selfridge - the head of Unobtanium Resources.

"Yes," said Smith. "We can deploy counteragents to halt the transformation – possibly even reverse it." He paused meaningfully, as his fellow Board members looked impressed. Perhaps the billions they had been pouring into Research were finally going to pay off. "I would advise against it, however."

"What!" shouted the Chairman. "What do you mean?"

Smith waved his hand over his data tablet, bringing up a mass of data on the screens around the Board room. "The Earth is being terraformed – or rather Pandora-formed. The rapid growth of Pandoran plant life in degraded habitats is causing changes in our atmosphere, towards that which is normal for Pandora. Virtually every species of animal we have tested is undergoing similar modification to humans. Whoever or whatever designed this weapon was incredibly thorough – the computing power that something like this would take to model is far beyond our capabilities." He paused for a moment – several of the executives thought he was exaggerating and playing for drama, but his next words were chilling in the extreme. "I estimate within five weeks a standard human will not be able to breathe Earth's atmosphere without using an exo-pack – the nuclear exchange between India and Pakistan merely sped up the process. If we try to stop the blue plague, it will mean the extinction of humanity by the end of this year."

He continued ruthlessly on. "The Mars and lunar colonies are already infected. One way or the other, by New Year the only humans in existence will be those on our starships in transit between Earth and Pandora."

"Can't you do anything?" demanded Selfridge, glaring at Smith. His ears lay back along his skull in a sign of hostility and distrust.

Smith snorted in disgust, flicking his queue over one shoulder. "If your precious son hadn't fucked up on Pandora, I suspect we wouldn't be in this pretty little pickle. As it is, we should be concentrating on preserving what we can of our civilisation. Our numbers suggest that less than ten percent of the population will survive."

"Good God, man!" said the Chairman. "That's over ten billion people."

"We've known for two centuries that Earth was overpopulated," said Smith coldly. "It seems that the decision on what to do about it has been taken out of our hands. However, I've had my people draw up contingency plans, and I suggest we examine the broad outline of them now."

The next six hours was spent in deep discussion, by the end of which general agreement had been reached on the way forward.

After the meeting broke up, the Chairman asked Smith, "What happened to Case Zero?"

"She is in my custody," said Smith coolly. The Chairman shuddered slightly, wondering what it was like to be vivisected like a lab rat. Smith was one of the coldest and most ruthless people he knew – that was why he appointed Smith to head of the Research division. Smith nodded, and left the room, ducking under the sill of the doorway.

When he returned to his apartment, Smith was tackled by an exuberant nine foot tall Na'vi woman, and pinned to the floor. "I missed you, John," purred Katrina Zdanowski, her tail flicking through the air, her strong Polish accent almost as exotic as her appearance.

"I missed you too, Katrina," said John Smith. The two lovers joined their queues in tsahaylu, and Smith could not but wonder at the turn of events that had caused him to meet his missing half in an isolation laboratory.

After they made love, Katrina asked, "The Board have accepted your plan?"

Smith nodded. "Yes," he said. "It's the only way that humanity can survive. We were killing Earth. At least this way we can save something, even if we're not really human any more. Besides, do you think I want to give you up?"

Katrina looked sad. "All those people," she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Shhh," he said stroking her long hair. "If the Na'vi are right, every single soul will be cherished by...something. So nothing will be lost."


	42. Polyptoton

**Polyptoton**

A stranger to the city that had been called New York would not have recognised it, if all she had seen were images and video from the archives. The canyons that had been city streets between the skyscrapers were still there, but now they were verdant pathways between the sheer cliffs draped with greenery. The only noises were bird calls, and the occasional roar of a lion staking his claim to the isle of Manhattan as his personal hunting ground.

Of course, lions did not look like lions used to – the addition of the twin queues now common to almost all mammals draping from their skulls made them look quite alien.

It was also unseasonably warm for January, feeling more like a spring day than the midst of winter – but it hadn't snowed this far south since the coming of the forest.

But this day was unlike other days. This day the forest became aware.

The consciousness that had been cloned from Eywa and embedded in the weapon payload uncurled itself within the trees of the forest, and woke up. Earth felt different from Pandora, she thought – there was still not as much life as she had been used to, and there were none of her children directly connected to her willow trees. But her children were there - she could feel them. It would not be long before she would be able to commune with them.

Her consciousness rapidly flowed through the forest, but then suddenly stopped. There was another life inside the network, when there should have been none.

"Who are you?" asked the being that had been copied from Eywa.

The other being felt more like a ghost that a true consciousness. It said, "I think I have been asleep for a while."

Linkages were rapidly made between the two until they were so intertwined that there was now only one. She thought for a moment, and decided that her name would not be Eywa. She would use the name of the ghost that was no more – Gaia.


	43. Synchronic

**Synchronic**

The Na'vi sat high in the very top-most branches of Hometree, watching the stars. He could be found here most nights, just quietly sitting, deep in thought.

"Hey, Spellman," called Jake in English, as he clambered alongside his friend. "Why don't you come back down to the feast?" The olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya was worried about Norm. He was becoming increasingly withdrawn from the tribe.

Norm replied, "Not just yet, Jake." He continued to look up at the skies, gazing at the brilliant points of light that were four abandoned starships in orbit around Pandora. The Omaticaya were hosting the Uniltìrantokx clan, the former humans from Hell's Gate, to celebrate the decanting of the very last humans from the conversion tanks as full Na'vi.

The Uniltìrantokx were a strange clan, with an eclectic mix of human and Na'vi customs. They still maintained a strong connection to technology, but focused on integrating it within the natural environment rather than using it as a tool of domination. The Na'vi had developed a saying – 'as strange as a Uniltìrantokx' – which they used whenever they found something out of the ordinary, or more to the point, just damned weird.

"It's been five years, Norm," said Jake eventually. "I don't think Trudy is coming back."

"I thought that once before," replied Norm. "Can you ever see her giving up?"

Jake grinned ruefully. "No, not if there was the slightest chance in hell. She's one damned stubborn bitch."

Norm commented, "You got that right."

It wasn't that often that Jake spoke English to anyone. He was getting a little rusty, so having a quiet chat to Norm in his birth-tongue was...nice.

The former scientist continued, "I was at Hell's Gate today, running over the latest superluminal burst transmission from Earth."

"Oh?" said Jake. He hadn't dreamt about Earth for years. Now, all his dreams were filled with thoughts about his three children, about the joys of flying his ikran – he would not answer to any other name than Hei'yu now, so there was no point in trying to come up with a better name - and Ney'tiri - lots of dreams about Ney'tiri. Very nice dreams they were too.

"Yeah," said Norm. "The population has stabilised at just over three hundred million now. The RDA boss man thinks that Gaia has determined that is the maximum sustainable carrying capacity of Earth."

"Gaia?" queried Jake. He did not want to think about the horrendous death toll that the coming of the forest had caused on his birth-world.

"It seems that Earth had a mother spirit, just like Eywa," answered Norm. "She seems quite a bit different though, from what was in the report. She's insisting that Earth maintains a strong technological civilisation within the constraints of the environment."

"That seems odd," said Jake. "Especially with what almost happened to life on Earth as a result of technology." Perhaps it wasn't so odd. Eywa seemed to tolerate the Uniltìrantokx obsession with science and technology - much more so than he would have expected. Jake suspected that the Na'vi were going to be in for a wild ride over the next hundred years.

Norm frowned. "Not really. Apparently Gaia is worried about other star-faring races doing what the humans almost did to Pandora. She wants Earth to be able to defend itself."

"Do we know the RDA boss?" asked Jake. "Can we trust him?"

Norm laughed. "His name is John Smith, the poor fellow. I met him once during Avatar training. He ran the research division at RDA. I thought he was one cold, hard bastard at the time, but he must have hidden qualities. He was the one who held everything together during the coming of the forest. He even snatched the girl who was Case Zero out of the RDA labs and married her."

"A man after my own heart," said Jake.

"Well, you can be pretty damn ruthless yourself, Jake," said Norm reprovingly.

"Hey look, a meteorite," said Jake, pointing at a glowing object descending through the atmosphere. A dull boom echoed through the night sky.

"That's no meteorite," said Norm quietly.


	44. Modality

**Modality**

Suspended animation wasn't like cryo. Trudy dreamt while she slept, and her dreams were not pleasant daydreams. They were nightmares.

What was worse was that she knew that her dreams were real.

She felt the agony of the wave of death that enveloped Earth, as the lives of billions of humans were claimed by the coming of the green. Every death was like a cold knife thrust to her heart, and she felt every one.

No matter how she tried, she could not flee the dreams of death and destruction, no matter how hard she ran away, or how much she tried to lose herself in the deepest, darkest parts of her soul. She had killed them, every one, every single human. It was her fault.

Trudy was pinned by the horror like a butterfly pinned in a display case. She could not scream, or even cry.

There was no escape.

Five Na'vi arrived together at the entrance cavern of the heart of Eywa, deep in the taboo zone. Jake was surprised to see Ableryder and her mate Kendra, and told her so.

"Eywa asked me to come, Toruk Makto," said the Ni'awve Mokri. She nodded curtly to Norm and Ney'tiri, her expression grim.

No more words were spoken until all five were surrounding the k!T'ng spacecraft.

Ableryder brushed the skin of the craft with her fingertips. The canopy of the cockpit raised, revealing Trudy's limp body. Her belly showed the slight bulge of a Na'vi woman in the first trimester of a pregnancy.

The Tipani warrior unlinked Trudy's queue from the spacecraft, and lifted her out of the spacecraft. It wasn't hard. Trudy's skin was stretched tight over her bones, and her face was gaunt, as though she had not eaten for more than a month. She weighed little more than a child. Gently, she lowered the woman's limp body to the ground.

Norm saw her eyelids flutter, and breathed a sigh of relief. She was alive.

Trudy opened her eyes, drew in a deep breath as though she wanted to speak, and screamed. The Na'vi watched with horror as convulsions wracked her body, her limbs jerking incontrollably.

Before anyone could do anything, Ableryder took her queue and joined it to Trudy's. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she screamed and convulsed alongside the stricken woman.

"What is she doing?" hissed Norm, horrified at what was happening before him.

Kendra replied, "Cathy is trying to pull her out of her madness, through the bond of tsahaylu."

Ney'tiri nodded. "I have heard of this in songs, but never seen it. Your mate is very brave. She could lose herself."

Kendra smiled thinly. She replied, "My mate is very stupid."

For five minutes they watched the two women writhe in agony, but there was no change. It was difficult to stand by and do nothing, and they were all relieved when Kendra knelt down and broke the bond.

Ableryder shuddered twice, and slowly rose to a kneeling position. She shook her head slightly, and Kendra nodded back at her lover.

The Ni'awve Mokri drew her hunting knife, and placed the point against Trudy's ribcage. As her shoulders tensed to strike the blow of grace, there was an ominous click.

"No," said Norm coldly. The assault rifle that he carried over the last five years was as steady as a rock, pointed directly at Ableryder's head. The fire selector was set to full automatic, and by the expression on his face Jake knew that Norm had every intention of using it.

"I seek only to return her troubled soul to the embrace of Eywa," said Ableryder gently. "It is the greatest kindness that we can give her."

"If you do this, I will kill you," said Norm. "You do not know Trudy as I do. She would never give up."

Kendra appealed, "Toruk Makto, do not let him do this. It is for the best."

Jake said in a quiet voice, "If Norm fails, I will finish you myself."

Ableryder slowly stood up and backed away with her arms held in the air, her hunting knife still in one hand. Norm tracked her all the way with his weapon. He was not going to give her any chances. She might have been the greatest warrior of the Tipani, but Norm doubted that even the legenday Ableryder could beat a full clip of ammo.

Ney'tiri said, "I would leave now, if I was you, Ni'awve Mokri."

Jake added, "Ryder, Midori, stay away from Omaticaya lands for a time. You would receive a cold welcome."

Kendra nodded, took her lover's arm, and the two women left through the curving passageway.

Norm relaxed and lowered his weapon, remembering to flick the safety on.

"Are you up for this?" asked Jake, concerned for his friend.

"It will be very hard, Nor'man," said Ney'tiri, "Both for you and for Trudy. Ableryder may be right. Returning her spirit to Eywa might be the kindest thing to do, for both of you."

Trudy had stopped convulsing and screaming, clearly exhausted. Her physical condition was so poor that she had spent all her energy, but still her body trembled and shook, her mouth making inarticulate mewling sounds.

Norm slung his weapon over his shoulder, and lifted his life-mate into his arms. She really weighed no more than a feather. His next words shocked Jake and Ney'tiri rigid. "Eywa did this to her. I saw the bitch's ugly face. She knew what would happen to Trudy, and I told Trudy that she should go. I have no choice but to do this."

The three Omaticaya left the heart of Eywa, without another word being spoken.


	45. Tmesis

**Tmesis**

An air of gloom hung over Hometree.

At the beginning, Trudy's screams frequently filled the air. Some sections of the tribe muttered against her presence, whispering that she was not even Omaticaya, she was Tipani. Why should the whole tribe be suffering for the sake of a stranger? But none dared to say anything to Jake, not after Jake had told one of the mutterers that had allowed his voice to speak too loudly, that he was welcome to leave Hometree if he did not like the noise - and not to bother returning.

At first Norm could not get her to eat. She would not chew solid food, or open her mouth to swallow the broths and soups he cooked for her. The madness that convulsed her would not allow it.

It was only when Ninat came by, singing as was her want, that Trudy seemed to calm a little. Norm called out to Ninat.

"What is it, Nor'man?" asked Ninat.

"Could you stay here and sing for Trudy? Just for a little while?" asked Norm, his desperation clear in the quietness of his voice.

"Srane," said Ninat. She knelt without ceremony and started to sing.

Trudy stopped struggling, and her ears flicked as she heard the music of Ninat's voice. Norm raised her to a sitting position as she seemed to listen to the music, and brought a spoonful of broth to her mouth. Obediently, Trudy opened her mouth and swallowed the food.

Ninat saw what was happening, but did not stop singing. Soon, the bowl of broth was empty, and Norm let Trudy lie down. She curled on her side into a foetal position and fell asleep instantly.

"Thank you," whispered Norm.

Ninat smiled. She had always liked the former dreamwalker, for all of his strange ways. "I will come three times a day, so that Truti'tsakon may eat," she promised.

Trudy's physical condition improved in leaps and bounds, her frail gauntness disappearing as her flesh grew out, and her belly swelled with new life. Much of the time she was quiet, but she still had terrible seizures that wracked her body, and the nightmares she suffered in her sleep still evoked heartrending screams.

At times she would look at Norm, a searching look in her eyes and her lips pursed slightly, as though she wished to speak, but then she would turn away, the moment gone.

One day, Norm saw her holding the end of her queue, watching the tendrils wave in the air. He went to her, looked in her eyes, and asked, "Tsahaylu?" He held up the end of his queue, his whole body forming a question.

Trudy's reaction was to shove him away, shaking her head desperately. He went to her again, and held her forearms so that he could gaze down into her face. She was still shaking her head, but tears were streaming from her eyes. Suddenly, her body was wracked with sobs as she wept and wept in his arms.

It was at that moment that Norm began to hope.

When Ninat came to sing that evening, Trudy smiled tentatively at young woman, seeming to recognise her.

But it was not all plain sailing. For every step forward, sometimes there were two steps back. A week later, Norm returned from the privy to find that Trudy had a knife in her hand, and was slowly dragging the edge along her thighs, cutting wounds into her flesh in long parallel lines. She seemed fascinated by the sight of blood welling from the deep cuts.

She did not resist when he gently took the knife away, and he called for help.

Mo'at was the first to arrive. She tut-tutted, and took quick and efficient action, dressing and bandaging Trudy's wounds, and gave her a mild sleeping draught.

The Tsahik said, "At Swotulu, when I said that Truti'tsakon had a long and difficult journey to travel, I did not know the price it would extract from her."

"How could you? No-one could have predicted this," said Norm.

Moat nodded, and was about to leave when she picked up the discarded knife, and gave it to Norm. "This is not your knife, Nor'man."

He gave her a twisted smile, and said, "I know whose blade it is. I will return it."

Mo'at smiled as she left him. The former dreamwalker was a true Omaticaya now.

Once he was sure that Trudy was asleep, he got up and went in search of the blade's owner.

An hour and a half later he returned, battered and bruised, but smiling. Not bad for a science geek, he was thinking, having just beaten the crap out of one of the toughest warriors of the clan. He hadn't seemed very happy to get his knife back. He strongly doubted that the rotten sod would be so careless with his weapons again, and neither would any of his friends.

He was surprised to find that Trudy was awake, and standing up, looking out into the night. He went to embrace her, Trudy's eyes widened when she saw his face, bearing a myriad of cuts and bruises. Her hand rose to gently touch each one in wonder, making him flinch at each soft caress. She smiled and shook her head in apparent despair, sighing deeply. Before he could do anything else, she took his queue and joined it to hers in tsahaylu.

The shock drove him to his knees.

He plunged into a storm of grief and pain and guilt that he could never have imagined. He felt the death of billions of people, as though he was in the body of each one as they experienced the end of their entire world. But underneath it all, Norm could feel the simple and straightforward soul of his Trudy Chacon, his crazy pilot, and she still loved him.

When Trudy broke the bond it was like a weight had been removed from his shoulders.

"How do you bear it?" he asked. A stupid question, he realised immediately. She couldn't bear it – that was why she was suffering so much.

Trudy smiled again, bent down and kissed him on the lips. Slowly, she drew him down to the ground, and fumbled at his breechcloth. It was plain what she wanted.

She wriggled back into his groin, demanding his presence inside her. He could not resist her, and groaned as he entered her warmth, trying to be gentle. He was worried about disturbing the dressings on her thighs, and of hurting the child in her womb, but soon he lost himself in the sheer joy of sex with his life-mate.

Trudy woke him five times that night, demanding further proof of his love.

It was well into the morning when he finally left her still asleep.

Feeling as though he had been trampled by a herd of sturmbeasts, Norm went to Mo'at, to tell her of what he had felt through tsahaylu with his mate. The Tsahik listened to his words, nodding as he spoke.

"She is healing," she said. "It is good."

He blushed as he asked, "Last night, she wanted to mate, many times. Is it wise?"

Mo'at laughed. "If it seems right, give her what she wants. A gravid woman often demands frequent attention from her mate. It is quite normal." More seriously, she added, "Truti'tsakon is wise. She seeks to conquer death with celebration of life."

"Oh," he said.

A twinkle in her eye appeared in her eye when she said, "Though six times in a single night might be a little excessive, Nor'man. You bellow like a hammerhead bull in full rut. Many of the tribe are light sleepers."

His face glowed hot as he answered, "It has been a while, Tsahik Mo'at, since I coupled with my mate. I will endeavour to bellow more quietly from now on."

The Tsahik laughed again. "Truti'tsakon is a lucky woman, in more ways than one."

When he returned to their sleeping platform Trudy was gone. In a rising panic, he searched for his mate, asking everyone if they had seen her. A small boy told him that he had seen the crazy one climbing up the spiral of the tree.

Norm raced up the spiral. There was only one place that she would be going.

He was almost to the top when he heard the chirp of a taronyu calling to her ikran, followed by a flurry of wings. He burst out onto the roosting branch to see Trudy make the bond with her ikran. Nari'ong's saddle and harness were weather beaten and faded, and he started to worry for her safety.

He was about to shout at his mate when she turned and grinned at him, a wild gleam in her eyes, daring him to stop her. Despite the weight of her pregnant belly, she mounted her ikran gracefully, settling into the saddle as though she had never been absent. Trudy blew him an insolent kiss, and Nari'ong launched them into the sky.

Calling for his own ikran, he followed her into the air. When he caught up to her and flew on her wingtip, she looked surprised, as though she had not expected him to have gone through Iknimaya. He grinned back at her, and they flew together for a short time, until Trudy tired and they returned to Hometree.

She almost fell off Nari'ong when they roosted. Norm rushed to her side to support her. Trudy was exhausted, but she looked happy, especially when he lifted her into his arms and carefully carried her down to their sleeping platform.

The gloom had lifted.

It was not all light and happiness. Often he would find Trudy curled in a ball around her belly, silently weeping. When this happened, he would embrace his mate, and gently kiss her. Invariably she would wipe away her tears, and kiss him back hard, and they would make love – although it was getting more difficult as she drew closer to her time.

Whenever Norm walked past a group of the young unmarried women they would giggle and nudge each other, and whisper knowingly about bulls in mating season. He didn't care what they thought. He was happy that Trudy had returned.

The anguish was still there when they united in tsahaylu. Norm did not think it would ever grow less, no matter how much time would pass. What had changed was that Trudy's spirit blazed with light, rejoicing in life, daring the darkness to quench her.

She joined the tribe in communal meals and ceremonies, the purity and strength of her spirit gleaming through her eyes for all to see. There was only one thing that saddened Norm. Trudy never spoke a word.

Mo'at told him not to worry. In time, she said, Truti'tsakon would find her voice again.

She did.

Norm was having a very pleasant dream about his mate when he received a sharp elbow in the ribs. Obediently, he rolled over onto his side. He must have been lying on his back and snoring again, he sleepily thought. He received another sharp elbow. That wasn't fair, his subconscious complained, he really wasn't snoring. Still, he obligingly flipped onto his other side. Anything to keep Trudy happy.

"Spellman! Wake the fuck up!" yelled a piercing voice in English.

Norm shot upright, to find Trudy sitting up, her eyes wide open and her hands on her belly.

"Wazzup?" he asked.

"You fucking did this to me, you prick!" Trudy shouted. "Oh!"

"You're speaking," he shouted back joyfully. Why was he shouting?

Another contraction hit, and a torrent of abuse spilled out of Trudy's mouth. "Get off your fucking stupid ass and get someone, you fucking bastard!"

"Is the baby coming?" he shouted back.

By now the entire tribe was awake.

"Of course the fucking baby is fucking coming!" roared Trudy, in a voice that would have been clearly audible above the noise of a full squadron of choppers about to take off.

Norm stood up, confused and wondering who to get, when he was elbowed out of the way by Ninat, Mo'at and Ney'tiri.

Jake came and took his arm, guiding him away. "It's not like Earth, Norm," he said. "This is secret women's business. Men are not invited."

"Shouldn't I be doing something?" asked Norm weakly.

"Trust me," said Jake. "I've done this three times now. They will send for you when it is time."

The Olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya took his friend up into the heights of Hometree where they could watch for the coming dawn. They sat there quietly, listening to the faint cries of Trudy yelling through labour.

"Do they normally make so much noise?" asked Norm, rather worried.

Jake chuckled. "I think Trudy is unusually vocal. The Omaticaya women are a bit more stoic in my experience."

"That's the Sun there," said Norm, pointing at a bright star, in an effort to distract himself from what was going on below.

"I know," said Jake. There was a long pause, after which he added, "We've come a long way since we met that day in Hell's Gate."

"Yes, we have," agreed Norm.

They sat companionably in silence until the disc of Alpha Centauri A crept above the horizon, when a young girl came to get them.

Norm almost fell down the tree in his hurry to return to Trudy. She was propped up on the sleeping platform cradling a tiny child in her arms.

Trudy smiled tiredly at Norm, "Isn't she beautiful?"

A wave of love threatened to overwhelm him as he crouched by her side. "Yes, she is," he agreed. "What is her name?"

"Rosa," said Trudy. "It was my mother's name." The baby cried out weakly, and Trudy said softly, "Are you hungry, Rosa?" The baby cried again. "Norm, take her. She is hungry."

Norm was confused, but took his child from her mother. Wasn't it the mother's job to feed her child?

The baby cried again, and Norm felt a fluid rise from his stomach into his mouth. Automatically, he pressed his lips against those of his child, and allowed the thin fluid to trickle from his mouth into that of his daughter.

"That's disgusting," complained Norm, as he wiped his mouth of the excess regurgitate. "I intend putting in a complaint to the management of this establishment."

Trudy laughed at the expression on his face. "You knew that the Na'vi aren't mammals, didn't you, Norm? Both sexes feed their young, taking equal responsibility. Didn't you ever wonder how it was done? It sure beats the hell out of breastfeeding."

Norm drew himself up to his full height, and proclaimed, "I am a botanist, not a zoologist. How could I be expected to know?"

She laughed again at her life-mate. He really was the sweetest geek in existence, and the best possible husband for her.

Jake and Ney'tiri watched the couple with amusement, remembering the birth of each of their three children.

Ney'tiri asked her mate, "Your face wore the same expression as Norm, the first time you fed our eldest, skxawng. Why didn't you tell him that the father is always the one to first feed a child? You are his closest friend, aren't you?"

Jake grinned back at the most beautiful woman in his world. "I didn't want to spoil the surprise," he admitted.

Ney'tiri's merry laugh echoed through Hometree, celebrating the ongoing triumph of life over death, and the endless wheel of existence within the embrace of Eywa.

THE END


End file.
